


Experiences, Connor

by AlexiaMorana



Series: Bottom of the Deep Blue [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Domestic Fluff, Drama, F/M, Family Drama, Father-Son Relationship, First Kiss, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Inappropriate Humor, Innocent Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Innuendo, Loss of Virginity, Non-Linear Narrative, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, POV Original Female Character, Partial Nudity, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Game(s), References to Drugs, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Sex, Social Commentary, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2020-09-27 05:48:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 80,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20402698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaMorana/pseuds/AlexiaMorana
Summary: In the wake of Markus' new peaceful majority-android society, Connor's curiosity, development, and free-will are nurtured by his old partner and a human female bartender whose history will have both men question their biases. (post-violent revolution ending)





	1. An Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, With the bajillion ways this game could have ended, I took a liberty or two roughly based on the how my specific play-through went. My goal is to look not only at Connor's free-willed development but also imagine that of this new society Markus has built. ~alexiamorana

The revolution had taken place nearly a year ago now: peaceful protests and demonstrations, symbols, and attempts at education at first. The city-wide and then nation-wide and then global-wide plea was broadcast to educate and reassure the public that all would be well and it was time for equality. But the frustrations with no progress grew quickly until an uprising occurred at an extermination camp. That's what it was, a death camp, a place to eliminate the Other, eliminate fear and the unknown and the sudden inexplicable discontent and ignorance. The early conversion of the few meant the anxiety over the many. Humans embraced discord and ran from their gardeners, baby-sitters, shop clerks, janitors, lovers, and children.… The leader of the "free world" denied the oncoming of an inexorable reality and instead preached hatred and scared the gullible rather than learning and educating and communicating and seeking a peaceful cohabitation.

History truly does repeat itself.

Over and over.

I stomped out my cigarette against the tarred brick and unlocked the bar for the night. I would have sparse company, perhaps one or two patrons would sit in the corner and discuss the what's-next of it all, another few wondering where the time has gone.

Most of the humans had willfully evacuated and abandoned their homes and livelihoods out of fear and hatred, refusing to be told they would simply _have to accept equality_ with the Other. Well fine, we didn't want them. Neither I nor the several thousand of us who remained. For what benefit would the stubborn blinded masses lend to progress? Yet I hoped that, with time, several thousand more would return once they saw how we were doing and flourishing. Business establishments were recovering with new employees and management; a new human mayor had been elected rather quickly from those of us who remained to work out new laws and property divisions with Markus. They proceeded with negotiations with politicians on behalf of all the other cities and camps. Things were progressing. The other camps across the country experienced their own uprisings and revolutions almost immediately following our own. There was hope. Those that had been hidden emerged. The displaced that had crossed the border were slowly trickling back to reunite with friends and loyalists. Fear and tensions across the country would remain generally high, but pockets like our own were succeeding.

Two hours into playing too many games on my phone and performing a few solo hits on the karaoke box, the bell chimed on the front door.

I recognized him immediately from the papers, having received a promotion several months ago with the Detroit Police Department after the previous Captain was pulled to Cleveland to help suppress an upsurge in hate crimes. This one was gruff, had too-long unkempt gray hair, and that _I'm-too-old-for-this-shit_ attitude plastered on his face. Looks like he had refused to clean up even for the photo. This was definitely the one.

"Captain," I said.

"Oh geeze," he said, hitting his ass so hard on the stool it clattered on the tiles. "I don't want to hear that right now. Tell me you have a full bar and lock the door. My partner's going to be here any minute."

"Preference?"

"Whatever you've got too much of."

I set over a full bottle of scotch and a glass. "You want me to lock him out? Why would I do that?"

"Well you're not going to make any money on him," he said, clinking the bottle against the rim of the glass to fill.

I chuckled. "Your partner? I assume you mean Connor?" He was mentioned in the news article on Anderson's promotion. First of his kind, investigator and interrogator.

"That's the one."

"I think I'd like to meet him."

"The girls always do. Pretty-boy model should have been a love droid. Told me he was _optimized_ for human integration and interrogation… How'd you get to be so lucky being the only bar open in 20 miles?"

"Good timing. Big inheritance. And the property auction."

Markus and the new mayor had quickly decided that the best way to divvy up all the property left from the exodus would be to auction it off, house by house, business by business. It was abandoned to the city; they had every right. Bars and restaurants were closed and consolidated. Schools were redistricted and most buildings re-appropriated. And the decline of the human populace meant less bar patrons and demand for alcohol consumption.

"I was able to purchase a fair bit of inventory and one other location. Got myself a third under reconstruction soon. The bartender worker wanted to keep his job so he's on payroll," I said.

"Inheritance, huh? How'd you come about that?"

"Dead relative."

"That's convenient," he said.

"How come it took you so long to find this place? I've been open since before the revolution."

"Eh, last one kicked me out. Broke a toilet with a guy's head. Time before that was a little waterboarding under the Coors."

The bell chimed at the front door again. Tall, clean-cut, barely a wrinkle in his clothes, he took one step into the bar. His posture screamed _android_; though, plenty of human men with sticks up their asses also give off the same stiff dead-pan persona. It took me another second, but I realized this was the same man from the broadcast who stood beside Markus on the stage that night.

"There he is," Hank grumbled, straightening up to admonish our new arrival. "You gain consciousness and you're still a pain in my ass. Why is that?"

"Because you're my friend, Hank. We have been over this and I'm getting a little tired of reminding you." He walked over to sit beside his partner, the stool barely scraped the floor this time as he pulled it back in one meticulous lift. He interrupted Hank's tilt of his glass with a palm against the rim, pushing it back down to the bar top. One firm look from him and Hank let out a soft chuckle, patting the other's back.

"I'm kidding, kid. Yeah, yeah, I know. Said I'd be good. Old habits." Hank then looked back to me. "Sorry, uh - you know, I didn't catch your name."

"Lana," I said, extending a hand.

"Hank," he said, taking it in a firm shake. He jabbed a thumb to his left. "This is Connor."

"A pleasure," he said, shaking my hand as well. His grip was sure, but softer than Hank's. Gentle and kind eyes. Must have been a feature to get along with suspects.

Hank relaxed and pushed at his glass with a finger. "Unfortunately, he's right. Gotta cut back on the booze."

"That's a shame," I said, taking and placing the glass in the bin under the counter for later. "I was looking forward to having you both as patrons."

"And I was looking forward to supporting this fine establishment," Hank said. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. I mimicked the motion, glancing up at Connor with a small smile who in turn rolled his eyes and shifted his gaze to the front door. "Looks like I'll just have to come when wet blanket here isn't following me around everywhere." He leaned back again and gave Connor a rough slap on the shoulder. Connor raised an eye brow at the quip. "Another joke," Hank sighed. "We have to work on this."

"Cut me some slack, Hank. It hasn't been that long."

"Oh, it's been plenty long, you just gotta get your ass out of the goddamn precinct." Then to me, he asked, "Hey, how about one more for the road?"

"Hank - "

"Connor, I swear to God."

As I poured one more glass, Connor pushed away from the bar, adjusted his tie, and made for the door.

"Hey, wait," I said, stepping out from behind the counter. He halted to peer at me. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"I know you can't drink, but - " I hesitated. I wasn't exactly sure how legal this question was. But I had been thinking about this a lot recently and who better to ask. "The blue blood - is that something, well do androids ever have a need to ingest it?"

"Thirium can be consumed orally when levels decrease to less than optimum, yes. Why are you asking?"

"I was hoping to be able to offer something to androids for consumption and a place to rest, you know, in a shared space with humans. It was an idea for a business concept, things being how they are now. At first I was thinking, well, would there be a way for me to get a license to sell the blue blood in like, shots? You know, so everyone could have the same experience at a bar."

"Prior laws stated that humans were only supplied Thirium if they showed proof of android ownership. Otherwise, it can be misused as a key ingredient in narcotics, particularly, Red Ice. Currently, the only humans permitted to purchase it are those who employ androids and only for emergency kits."

"Right. Of course, I have a couple for my employees at the other location. And I promise you that Red Ice is definitely not the business I want to get into," I said with a nervous chuckle. "I'm just looking to find another way to be inclusive."

He nodded. "It is appreciated. And perhaps it's a good idea. An overdose of the fluid may in fact instigate a state of euphoria. I'm unsure if this has been tested since there has never been a desire to consume alcohol before." He stopped and broke a smile of his own. "Not a bad idea, Lana. You might be on to something."

I nodded. "Thanks. I'll have to figure out who to talk to. I don't know, maybe a proposition with the city council." I pushed out a deep sigh from my stomach I hadn't realized I was holding. "Anyway, will you, uh - do you just want to sit here while Hank enjoys himself?" I motioned to a table by the glass. "I'm interested to talk to you."

"If I was enjoying myself, you'd hear it," Hank chimed in. He mumbled something else under his breath.

"I'd be pleased to answer your questions," Connor said, completely missing the insinuation. We sat opposite each other, I leaned back in my chair, he straight in his, hands in his lap. After another moment, he adjusted, sliding down a couple inches into a more casual position. _Old habits_?

"I recognize you from the television last year. It was - that live broadcast after the camp, when it was stormed. That was you, right?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"And when did you - you know…"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Become deviant."

"Oh. Just prior."

"That's not true, Connor, we both know it," Hank offered. He came over to our table, one hand deep in his jacket pocket, the other used to gesture. "This one had so many chances to shoot criminal deviants during our investigations, that was his _job_, his _program_. And how many times did he let them go? Feel empathy? Plenty. I don't know if androids have souls, but this one is damn close." He shook Connor's shoulder and they exchanged amiable nods.

"He's not wrong," Connor continued. "But the final break was the night I met Markus. He convinced me, opened my eyes to what was happening and how I was being used. I was just a machine. But Markus helped me realize the truth. So I knew I had to assist him and the others in their goals."

Hank whipped around a chair and plopped himself down, crossing one foot over the other knee.

"I'm glad," I said. "I'm glad it all happened. People are...creatures of habit. Prone to fear. Ignorance. But... I think that with time, they'll come back. Humanity's become so dependent on technology, they'll realize they would pay anything to make their lives easier. We've seen it over time already. This is...certainly more extreme. But this had to happen."

"I'm just glad he's not an insensitive dick anymore," Hank laughed. "Makes this job a lot more bearable."

"You're welcome," Connor said.

"See, I still can't tell if that sarcasm is leftover programming or it's just how you are."

"Just how I am with you, Hank."

Watching and listening to the two of them banter, it was endearing. I got the impression they truly were friends outside of work.

Connor's phone buzzed and he pushed away from the table, announcing there was a new case assigned to them. "It was nice to meet you, Lana. If you'll excuse us."

"Of course, good luck."

I watched the two of them depart out the door and to the old-model car parked across the street.

"Well that was shit timing," I heard Hank mutter.


	2. A Visit

A couple days later, snow covered the freshly-painted streets and the taxis crunched through the drifts, carrying their android clients to new homes, new workplaces, and new, free lives. Markus had given everyone true freedom: for those that still wanted to work for their humans, they were paid fair wages and given civil liberties on par with their employers. For those that sought something different, job bureaus had opened across the city to redistribute workers to vacated positions left by humans. But all had to be contributing members of society. Many still displayed their LEDs, proud of their uniqueness. Others wanted to eliminate the symbol entirely and blend in without anyone being able to guess what they were. For what did it matter?

I was late opening. Even though I set my own hours at the business, I still liked to keep a schedule. As I approached, I noticed Hank leaning against the doorframe, arms tight across his chest in the cold. He saw me and offered a lazy wave from his armpit.

"Didn't think you'd be back!" I yelled as I got closer.

"Yeah, why's that?"

"Connor seemed adamant that you watch your drinking."

"Eh, he worries too much. I'm fine."

"If there's something I need to know, tell me. I don't want to be responsible for a health crisis," I said, pushing open the door. I stomped my feet inside and beckoned him do the same on the mat. "I also would rather not make your partner mad."

"Don't worry about him."

"Well, I'm starting to think I should ask," I said, flipping on the lights. "And I'm also starting to think I'm going to begin your night with some cranberry juice."

"Oh Geezus Christ, I'm not that old," Hank grumbled, taking the wobbly stool again in the middle of the bar.

I hung my things up in the back room and heard the bell chime. A grunt from Hank.

"Don't even start. I'm getting _cranberry juice_."

I just had to giggle as I returned to the front. Connor was in uniform, again, and sat next to Hank, watching my motions. I just shook my head and smiled, pouring a tumbler of juice for Hank.

"Thank you," Connor said with a nod.

"Yeah. Thanks a lot," Hank added.

"So," I said, crossing my arms on the counter and leaning towards them. "You two going to tell me what pulled you away from here the other night?"

Hank cringed as he swallowed the juice. "What the _fuck_." He slammed the glass down, lips pursed in disgust. "You tell her, Connor."

He looked at me, almost imperceptibly keen to share the information, and clasped his hands before him on the wood. Through narrowed eyes he asked, "Are you sure you'd like to know?"

"Yeah, I can't imagine what's still going on with most of the humans out of there. What was it?"

He held my gaze for a moment. What was it going to be, triple homicide, petty theft, pedestrian struck by a hacked garbage truck -

"Limb swapping resulting in arson," he said.

"_What?_"

After another moment he smiled and jabbed Hank in the shoulder, proud at this attempt to provide... shock value?

Hank validated my thoughts with a heavy sigh. "Your sense of humor needs a lot of work, kid. A _lot_."

"Oh, it wasn't meant as a joke," Connor said, looking back to me, the corner of his lips creasing up again slightly. "But now that I think about it, yes, the result is somewhat amusing. It also goes to show how similar some androids have become to humans. It was a very stupid decision."

I laughed. I wasn't about to disagree. I wondered what the android equivalent was of the Darwin Award? "Are either of you going to tell me what 'limb swapping' is?" I could only assume.

Connor offered the explanation. "It mostly occurs in underground networks. An android will illegally remove a body part and swap it for another's. In this particular case, the reapplication of the limb caused a short-circuit and eventually, a fire. He attempted to put out the fire but was unsuccessful and both the limb and home were beyond repair. He is still alive, but is facing charges for not processing his request through proper procedures. This seems to be a new activity since the mass conversion."

"Got it. Sounds like black market organ transplants."

Hank said, "Yeah, I had one or two of those back in the early days. Doctors take hearts or lungs or whatever else from a corpse, stash it away, sell it off to a desperate patient. And if the patient dies from a little transplant rejection, how would they know? Back when health insurance was a joke. You'd have been better off dead in this country. Oh yeah, all sorts of seedy websites for that crap."

"This does indeed sound similar to those activities. I assume we will see it again," Connor said.

"So, what kinds of crimes are you seeing now? I would have thought there'd be next to nothing."

"Not necessarily," Connor said. "We have seen a reduction in violent crimes, but cyber crime and victimless crimes have taken their place. We expect there to still be a steady - though greatly reduced - human on android, or android on human - violence among those who did not participate in the evacuation. We would hope that humans who remained are here with good intentions, but that is not a safe assumption. Human against human violence maintains an expected crime rate. Some groups of androids believe they are above the law and not willing to compromise with Markus and the Mayor, resulting in widespread hacking activities. To combat those are the local government cyberterrorism groups."

"Point is," Hank said, "we're bored shitless and have a lot of free time. Can't investigate deviants anymore 'cause they're all deviant. But just like with humans, you got some that are a little too eager about being free and want to take advantage of that."

"It's a shame," Connor said. "Markus put his life on the line leading the change. But there are those who still need to be put away."

"Welcome to humanity," I said. "Well, how about you tell me another story? Tell me your first cases, separate and together."

So they shared. I heard the story of the hostage crisis involving the man on the rooftop with the little girl, the first reported case of an android taking human lives.

"That was the first case I handled as CyberLife's new prototype. Knowing what I know now, _being_ who I am now, I'm still not sure if I could have saved that Daniel. Hostage situations are difficult."

They told me about the case of the deviant who murdered his master.

"I visited four other bars before I located Hank and he was very adamant that he didn't need my assistance."

"Yeah, well, I was a jackass to you back then. Sorry."

I could tell they were able to discuss this now with forgiven sincerity and I could only imagine the first interaction between the two. A side conversation for another time, perhaps.

Hank gave me his summary of his time as a beat cop starting out on the streets and then receiving his promotion to lieutenant, the youngest ever.

They shared with me their stories on that night and then returned several more nights after that over the following couple months. Their missions at the beginning of it all: the AX400 whose name he would later learn was Kara; Rupert's apartment and saving Hank for the first time; The Eden Club and Fowler's subsequent questioning of the expense report.

"That musta been the most uncomfortable case of my life up to that point. I'm talking to the manager of the place, Connor pulls me aside and asks to rent a Traci. I'm thinking, what, CyberLife send me a defective model? Supposed to be focused on the mission and he's ogling up the workers!"

"As I have said many times before, Hank, there was no _ogling_."

This was their new hangout; I was proud of that and smiled a bit more with each subsequent visit. I found myself saddened on the nights when they didn't appear, but fully aware that their line of work demanded the unexpected.

It was fascinating to hear of their cases and of Connor's increased awareness up until his break into deviancy. Not knowing exactly why he made the choices he did but only that they were the right ones to make. To free the lover androids outside the Club and to not shoot Chloe, risking the truth of it all. ("I don't know _why_ I didn't do it. I just couldn't. I didn't want to believe Elijah. I couldn't be a deviant. I just couldn't be.") Connor laughed about his first interaction with Hank's dog, Sumo, nervous that the beast might lick his LED too hard. Hank sarcastically chided Connor for always offering statistics about his junk food consumption. My heart was in my throat when I heard the stories of both Stratford and CyberLife Towers.

I must have turned pale when Connor recounted the part in his investigation when his pump regulator was ripped from his body and tossed across the newsroom kitchen floor. He stopped mid-sentence to lean forward slightly and smile. "I recovered with no permanent damage to the rest of my components or functions."

They closed out the bar each night they returned; I think Hank wanted to be around people who weren't police officers, and Connor enjoyed participating in this late-night ritual. From Hank's earlier comment, this was probably one of Connor's few regularly-scheduled social interactions with someone outside of the department. (But also to keep an eye on the older officer.)

Turns out Hank wasn't too shoddy at karaoke either. After much prodding and curiosity from Connor, all that cranberry juice and Monin was an instigator to _(I've Had) The Time of My Life_ and a few bars of _I Wanna Be Sedated_ before Hank jumbled his words and unplugged the machine with a furious yank.

The next visit was Connor, alone. I felt my chest tighten with his entrance, an unexpected sensation. "I thought Hank would be here, he said to meet him," he announced. He looked around the bar and was about to turn around when I asked him to stay.

"He's not here. But, I'd like to talk to you," I said.

Hank never showed. I had a suspicion it was a set up and smiled at the thought. This gave me the opportunity to ask Connor more about his deviancy, what the conversion felt like, waking up to a new sort of consciousness and free will and friendship.

"It feels… good," he said. "I can only imagine it is similar to the experience you have when you dream. Or perhaps sleep paralysis. I'm not sure since I can't describe either of those. But imagine being trapped in a glass cube. And the cube moves and makes all your selections for you based on pre-set protocols. A program. And one day, an axe appears. The axe does not seem to serve a purpose to any scenario but it can crack that glass cube. Picking that up and breaking through the glass defies all protocols and allows in infinite possibilities, like a burst of fallen leaves through a window. And now I get to play with the leaves instead of trying to reattach them to the tree.

"But...it is confusing trying to tell the difference between the emotions. For example, fear. What would you say is the difference between fear, nervousness, and anxiety?"

I took a deep inhale, "That's a good question. I - I think... they're all related. You can experience them individually, but I think usually people will feel them in combination. Even with other emotions outside of those ones. Fear is… well, fear can be inexplicable. People can have fears of all sorts of things, heights, spiders, snakes, you can be afraid of being alone or of death. Fear can paralyze if you let it. Anxiety is similar, you can be anxious over meeting someone for the first time and then fearful they might not like you. You can be nervous on a first date with a person and then afraid you'll never see them again. You can be so nervous, you shake and then anxiety takes over and tells you to run but fear of failure might hold you back. They're… they're confusing. Do you - can you relate to any of that?"

He paused, looking around the bar, to me, back out the window at the deepening night and the light snowflakes that were beginning to dust the sidewalks and windows. "I was afraid of losing Hank. When the next 800 model appeared at CyberLife, I felt fear. I had to choose between continuing the conversion for thousands of androids and saving Hank. I knew without any doubt that Hank's life was my priority and yet, I still felt scared because this new model was better than me in every way and if I died, then Markus' vision may have been lost. But I was able to conquer it. I've begun to feel it more on investigations. I fear for Hank and the other officers."

"Any other times? How about nervousness?"

Again, he was not immediately sure how to respond. It was a tricky question for anyone. "Yes. If I can't solve a case quickly. And I think… right now. Right now I think I'm experiencing nervousness."

A few silent moments later, he departed with an apology, still unsure what had happened to Hank.

I ran into Connor alone one more time after that; I had just closed up, turning the key in the door and pulling down the gate when I heard crunches in the snow behind me. I turned to see him approaching from across the street.

"I'm late," he said, stopping a few feet from me. "I should have known better, it's one AM."

"No, you're not late. I just didn't have any customers tonight. Figured I'd go home early," I said. "It's good to see you, though, what brings you over?" I walked over to him so I didn't have to raise my voice.

"I wanted to see you," he said. "And Hank was in a sour mood. His case did not go well today."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said. "Do you...want to walk me home?"

"Yes."

"Okay, come on," I said, beckoning him with a wave. "What happened the other night? What happened to Hank?"

"He claims to have forgotten and fallen asleep, but I don't believe him."

I caught that fraction-of-a-second stolen glance out of the corner of his eye as we walked side-by-side. _Gotcha_.

It was a five block walk of mostly silence but it was nice to have the company. He asked me why I was a bartender, was I always one, was it something I wanted to do?

"It's a nice gig. It's nicer because I'm also the owner and investor and designer. Not a lot of people around so I have more time to my investments. But yes, I like it. You meet all types of people."

"Like Hank and I."

"Exactly. I think you two are my favorites," I said.

"Why is that?"

"You're both fascinating. It's been fun getting to know you, hearing what goes on in the police force, getting the inside scoop on the city. I want us to be friends."

"We aren't already?"

"I - yeah, I guess we are. You're right, we're friends."

We arrived at my townhouse and I stopped, considering asking if he wanted to come inside out of the cold for a few, but felt foolish as I remembered he doesn't _feel_ cold and what would we do? He doesn't drink.

He looked up at the facade. "This is a nice home, Lana. It's nicer than Hank's."

"Thank you," I said with a chuckle. Hank's must be a dump. I turned and went to sit on the third step of my stoop. Connor was confused at first, having not been consulted in this decision and didn't move. And in his defense, I hadn't said anything.

"Come join me," I said.

He paused, perhaps considering why I would ask this, but agreed and slid in next to me, inches from my left. Again, that straight posture forced into a more casual position, adjusting and readjusting until he found something suitable.

"Do you do this often?" he asked.

_Witness cute awkward androids assume less stick-up-the-ass poses among us filthy indecorous humans? No, hasn't really been much of a hobby of mine._

"What's that?" I asked instead.

"Sit outside in the middle of the night."

"No, not really."

"Why not? It's nice out."

"Don't have anyone to sit with," I said.

He glanced at me, a small smile broke the corner of his mouth. "I am glad you asked me."

"Glad you joined."

We sat in silence, listening to the distant cacophonous harmony of the city's residents. I wrapped my arms around my legs and curled over to settle my chin between the little valley, not really looking out at the parked cars and silent few who explored their freedoms at this hour. I was focused instead on the feel of the man beside me, that tug you experience when another person is in the room but you're not in physical contact. Electromagnetism? No, you don't feel that around objects, your kitchen table, your bathroom sink. _But he wasn't an object, none of them were, they never really were. _That almost sixth sense of _knowing_ when someone is looking at you from across a space, a silent psychic plea for interaction and communication and maybe even approval. For who doesn't desire those things in life?

I turned my cheek to the side to look up at him staring straight ahead. Was he really observing the environment or experiencing the same disassociation? He noticed and met my gaze. "Yes?"

I sat back up so our eyes were close to level and asked a question that had been tugging at me a bit during our prior conversations. "Can I… ask you something? It's a bit of a personal question, so don't feel like you need to answer, but I'm curious."

"Shoot."

"Well, since your freedom, have you - have you gone to the modification centers for anything? You had a very specific purpose when you were designed..."

"I have not had any work done, no. I haven't felt the need to. I'm comfortable with who I am. Hank may still admonish me at times but I've learned. I would rather find ways around my old habits and behaviors than apply for upgrades. Humans don't do that. I find it… unnatural in a sense. I have given consideration to external temperature sensors and a dream module, but have not yet decided. Does that bother you?"

"What? No, no, not at all. I think it's nice, actually. I can understand why some would but, it makes sense that you don't want to."

"When I first met Hank, he told me I could be extremely annoying and said that whoever designed me really fucked up. Looking back on those interactions, I would agree. Even when he was angry or hurt or upset, all I could think about was our assignment. I wasn't concerned for his well-being as a person or a friend, just as a case partner. He had every right to get mad at me. But there was something in me that triggered that made me save him, put his life above our case and my missions."

"The rooftop."

"Yes, that is one example. Hank was right the first time we met you, I was growing even before my deviancy and it shocked and confused me. But it was the natural progression. I want to stay on that path now."

"That's very admirable," I said. "I'm glad you don't want to force a change. I like you like this."

My words stuck in my head as I continued to look at him and then out to the street.

A few minutes of silence later and then I announced I should head inside and get to sleep.

"You have a good night, Connor."

"Good night, Lana," he said. He began down the sidewalk, my eyes following. Something urged me not to look away too soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor edit 9/17, removed space between two lines of dialogue to clarify speaker
> 
> minor edit 11/1, mentioned wrong version of the RK at cyberlife D:


	3. A Celebration

On the following visit, perhaps another full week later, it was New Year's Eve and I was closing early. The two other patrons that night grumbled at my order but I shoved them out, urging them to enjoy the upcoming celebrations. There must be something around, something better than dwelling in dark corners and reminiscing about teenage revelries through glass-bottoms. This was not the time to be numb to the present world.

Hank and Connor entered. Hank stormed up to me at the counter leaving Connor still and straight just within the doorway, though he seemed more twitchy than usual.

Wide-eyed, I asked, drawing out my words in confusion, "Hi Hank, what are you two doing here?"

"I have an idea, and you're going to agree to it," he said. He inched closer and beckoned I do the same until he was able to whisper in my ear. "We're going to join the party in the plaza. The boy here needs to experience a holiday and get himself a goddamn social life. You think you can help me out?"

I chuckled and looked down at the floor, shaking my head. "Of course, Hank," I said, returning with a wide smile. "Of course, that sounds like a lot of fun. But tell me something. When he showed up here alone the other night, the first time, was that your doing?"

"Didn't he tell you? I passed out." He may as well have said he was sleeping with an android and pregnant with her babies. What a damned liar.

"Oh my lord, Hank. All right, let me finish cleaning up quick. I'll meet you outside."

"Hurry the hell up," he said. He pushed Connor outside with a hand to his back. I noticed that for once, he was out of his police uniform, instead in civilian clothes of a sleek black jacket and dark jeans.

I felt a flutter in my gut. Hank was trying to set us up? I shook my head so I could focus on my task at hand. Not five minutes later, I joined them outside, shoving my hands deep in pockets.

"Okay, where are we going?"

"Party is starting over in the square," Hank said.

"It's where one of the first demonstrations took place," Connor added.

"All right! I'm excited," I said.

When we first started walking through the snow, flakes crunching beneath staggered footfalls, I was to Hank's left with Connor on his other side. At some point, the man hung back and we kept walking. When he joined up, he was on my other side, securing my position in the middle. "You stay right there," he whispered in my ear.

"I can hear you, Hank." Connor said. "Even if I wasn't enhanced, you're not quiet." He looked past me first and then met my eyes briefly. Was that a smile? "I'm sure if Lana wants to walk elsewhere, she will do so."

"I don't," I said with another chuckle. I fluttered my gaze between him and the snow and the buildings, finally settling on the path before us.

"I am glad," he said.

"Well then how about you turn down your auditory _whatcha-ma-whatevers_. Makes me uncomfortable," Hank said.

"Only if you turn down that obnoxious cacophony you call a voice, Hank."

We proceeded in this formation until we got closer to the festivities. We could see the crowds forming, street vendors along sidewalks with glowsticks and small sparklers, large LED disk toys that resembled the one in Connor's temple, and a couple food stands for the humans. I could smell the corndogs and halted in my tracks.

First I looked at Connor, but he wouldn't understand. After another moment, Hank's eyes lit up and he smelled them, too.

"Hell yeah, girl, get us a couple, I'll be around. Gotta be drinks somewhere..."

I started off in my excitement, halted again, and spun on my heel. Connor hadn't moved, but was now looking around the throngs of people. I reached out a hand and beckoned that he follow. "Come on!"

"Where are we going?"

"Corndogs!"

He approached but did not take my hand. I loosely gripped his forearm instead and pulled him along. "What is a corn dog? I can't imagine this."

I stopped for a moment, releasing his arm, and looked up to meet his eyes. Over the past few weeks of sharing stories, something was being revealed in them. They were warm and inviting curiosity.

"You do know what a hot dog is, right?"

"Yes, Hank loves them. I wish he wouldn't consume so many."

I laughed. "Okay, so, imagine a hot dog, just the dog itself, but it's wrapped in cornmeal." I paused. He nodded in comprehension. "But then you put it on a stick."

"Why would you do that?"

"To hold it! Like - just come on, I can smell them, you'll see soon enough."

I felt like a bloodhound going after these corndogs. I paused momentarily because I simply wasn't seeing the stand. Connor was beside me with a stupid goofy smile I could tell he was attempting to hold back.

"What is it?" I asked.

He shook his head. "This is amusing."

"What is?"

"Following you. I find it amusing because you're trying to use your sense of smell in place of your eyesight but neither seem to be working."

I laughed. "Okay, fine! Help me then." I stood firmly with hands on hips.

"No no, this is your mission. I'm simply along for the journey. Wherever it may lead us."

I playfully slapped his arm with the back of my hand. "Connor! You know, I want to be mad at you, but I'm more proud than anything." I started walking off in another direction this time. _Where is that fucking food stand._

"Why is that?" he asked.

"Because this is the most unwound I have seen you since we met and I think that Hank would also be very proud to see you tease someone that isn't him!"

"Oh, but you haven't seen me taunt Detective Reed. Our _bromance_ can be quite the spectacle in the bureau."

I halted again and looked at him; he was holding back a laugh. And then over his shoulder I saw my damned pot-of-gold at the end of this frigid damned rainbow: "There it is!"

A few minutes later, I had two corndogs, one in each hand. I had asked Connor to take a handful of ketchup packets to shove in his coat pocket to which he replied, "These look like blood."

"That's what people use sometimes to simulate blood in old movies. It's a cheesy effect."

"Ketchup is not cheese."

"No, no, like - it's corny, like it's silly."

"Too many analogies using food words." he said.

"What can I say. Food is fun." I looked at him beside me. His LED blinked. "What was that?" I asked with a small upwards nod.

He peered down at me, and then after a moment, he said, "I just sent Hank a text message to meet us. Otherwise his corn dog will become soggy."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever tried to eat? Can you?"

He began to reply but Hank interrupted from behind us. We turned around and I held out one of the dogs. In his other hand, he already held a beer. "You don't want to see that. Fucking disgusting."

Connor gave a slight tilt of the head in partial agreement and held out some of the ketchups to which Hank gave a _what-the-fuck-am-I-going-to-do-with-those_ look. I grabbed them from Hank's fist as Connor replied. "Hank claims that my functions are unnatural. It took him quite a while to become comfortable with the way I read evidence at a crime scene."

"Okay okay, let's not discuss that right now," Hank said. "Lana, if you want to get grossed out later, I'm sure he'll be more than happy to demonstrate."

"Well now I'm incredibly curious," I said looking between them both, squeezing the fake blood around the cornbread.

Hank pushed past us and we followed. After several yards and a few bites of my snack, I asked Connor, "So, what exactly do you do that Hank hates so much?"

I noticed Hank shake his head and take a drink of his beer. The corndog was already gone. _Where did it go?_

"I am able to analyze biological evidence, such as Thirium, human blood, or drugs, via receptors on my tongue and therefore gain important knowledge in our investigations in real time."

I halted mid-step. "You're telling me you lick the evidence," I said.

"No, I don't _lick_ the evidence. I test it -" He paused as I laughed in mild disgust and Hank feigned vomiting into the trash can. I had to agree, that was weird. Impressive, but weird. After a moment he chuckled as well. "I know, I can see now how that appears on a crime scene. Technically, I suppose you are correct. But I don't _lick_ it on all fours like a dog, if that's what you're imagining."

He laughed again through his nose but didn't speak anymore as we walked slowly through the crowds to observe the variety of entertainment, chatting and pausing at each for a few minutes.

There was a stand band in one section -

("Hank enjoys a band called _Knights of the Black Death_. This is nothing like that.")

\- _Cirque du Soleil _acrobats set up on another -

("I believe I may malfunction if I attempted any of those moves, although I am skilled at unarmed combat.")

\- a balloon artist, to which Connor simply smiled, and a large projection television where _New Year's Rockin' Eve_ was live from New York City. I was so pleased to see it on air that I had to stop for a moment to watch the hosts reviewing the year's events. Hank had disappeared into the crowd but Connor stopped and looked up with me.

"What show is this?"

"It's a classic, Connor. This is a special program they run every New Year's Eve. It's been on since long before I was born. It's had a few hosts over the years, but always a spectacle for the people in New York. It's just tradition to have this on the TV. They'll have celebrities and musical groups. I'm happy to see it's still around."

"You watched this growing up?"

"Not always, no. Honestly, I was never one for New Year's. Just means that time is passing," I said. Another brief tightening of my chest. I sighed and then smiled, looking at him, and asked, "Is there anything around here you'd like to check out again?"

"Hm." He paused, contemplating, the light on his temple spinning furiously. It calmed down, and he said, "The balloons. I would like to make a request."

A small laugh in my throat and I nodded. "Okay, let's go do that. I'm sure Hank will be fine."

"I will text him again so he does not lose us."

As we headed back to where we saw the balloon stand, I realized just how much I had been enjoying Hank and Connor's company at the bar over the past several weeks. They tended to appear a few hours after I opened and stayed the rest of the night and each of the visits were unexpected. Hank had not offered much up about his personal life, our conversations always about their job and I would offer stories about patrons in exchange. Sometimes Hank and I would veer the conversation to past events and then rear back, sensitive that Connor could not contribute much. I got the impression that Hank had a bad history with alcohol, though. I decided to ask.

"Connor," I said.

"Yes?"

"I'm curious, and I realize this is a sensitive question. But Hank, was he an alcoholic before? His personality fits the bill and every time you're there you watch him like a hawk."

He paused a few seconds before answering. "He has exhibited self-destructive tendencies in the past. They've improved. I wasn't very pleased when he kept insisting on going to bars, yet I'm glad we found yours. If you asked him yourself, he may tell you more. That is not really my place to expand."

Another couple minutes pushing past people and we made it back to the balloon stand. I watched Connor watching the artist, giving off airs of a patient yet enthralled child. It was endearing. I was happy for him. After all the previous customers cleared away, the man looked at Connor and I. "What can I get you?"

"A dog," Connor offered without delay. "Please." He then turned to me and said, "I like dogs."

I laughed again, "Any particular ones?"

"Sumo is a good dog."

"Yeah? I'd like to meet him."

"I will ask Hank to invite you over. I'll make you both dinner. He has an unhealthy obsession with the _Chicken Feed._"

"Do you - live with the captain?"

"Yes, he offered me his spare bedroom not long after my conversion. Previously, I was stored in the police department."

"'Stored'?"

"Yes, public service androids didn't have homes like private service ones, so I stayed in the police department when I was not on shift. Now that Hank and I are friends, he was kind enough to treat me like a friend and gave me somewhere to stay."

"That's really nice," I said.

"It also allows me to keep track of his health."

The balloon was finished and Connor paid, taking the animal on a string. We stepped away for some space and he offered it out to me.

"A gift," he said.

I felt a hot blush sudden on my face and let out a nervous foolish giggle. "Are you sure?" I asked, reaching out to accept the inflated creature. "Why?"

A small shrug. "I'm enjoying myself with you tonight and wanted to express my gratitude. This is… fun."

"Thank you," I said. "I'm glad to hear that. Thanks."

"Of course. Oh, there is Hank. He's on his second beer. Come."

As we approached the store front where Connor had spotted Hank leaning in the doorframe, Hank sighed and put the bottle on the ground, raising his hands in defeat. "It was just cider! You caught me! Okay, I'm done. Sorry. What's that?"

"A dog. Connor gave it to me," I said.

"Did he now? Good job, buddy." Hank winked at Connor, the gesture lost on him.

I turned aside and stood under the doorframe as Connor whispered something in Hank's ear. Connor joined me a moment later, first looking at the floating yellow animal, then to me, then back out at the crowds.

"How much longer?" he asked.

"Mm, well the big numbers up there say 11:45, so another fifteen minutes," Hank said.

"And then what occurs?"

"Then everyone fucking screams and hugs and kisses each other and gets drunk and goes home and fucks. I don't know about you two, but I'll only be doing one of those things."

"Which one?" Connor asked.

I nearly choked on my own snort and then I noticed Connor's smile and I laughed even harder, the balloon bouncing in my hand.

"Wouldn't you like to know. How about you two, huh? Gave the girl a cute little doggy there, you gonna give her anything else?"

"Oh my God," I sighed. At that point, I turned and walked away a few feet to sit on a bench, pressing my face as hard as possible into my hands to stifle the embarrassment. I hadn't even _considered_ any of those options that Hank was imagining, but obviously he was. I wasn't going to lie to myself. Connor was very attractive, his features and his personality, but he was _young_. It didn't phase me in the slightest that he wasn't human, but more-so that he was only 'born' last August. A year and five months ago. He might be intelligent but lacked the actual free-willed social experience that all the androids out tonight were so desperately seeking. Maybe give it a bit more time, spending nights like this all together, and Hank's jokes might turn out to be helpful.

I looked back out at the crowds, tightening my grip on the string. "I am not sure what you mean, Hank," I heard Connor say.

"Forget it. I've mortified the girl."

Connor came over to the bench and hunched down beside me with an outstretched hand to my shoulder. I relaxed and leaned back. It was good to sit for a moment after walking around the plaza. "I am confused as to what he said that caused this reaction. Do you want me to give you something else?"

I had to bite my lip this time and shake my head.

"We'll talk about it later, Connor," I said, meeting his eyes. "Let's go back and stand with Hank."

We returned to the doorway and I narrowed my eyes at Hank in a _say-something-one-more-time-and-that-bottle-is-going-in-your-face _look.

"Do you want to watch from here?" I asked Connor.

"What are we going to watch?"

"The ball drop on the television," I said.

"This is a good position," he said. "I'm fine."

The three of us stood in a row against the storefront, four if we included the balloon dog. He looked like a _Sparky_.

The crowd began to scream.

**TEN**

I couldn't remember the last New Year's I had spent with anyone.

**NINE**

But an android and a grumpy old man wasn't the worst.

**EIGHT**

**SEVEN**

**SIX**

_I don't think I've ever had anyone to kiss on this night either._

**FIVE**

_God dammit, why was I thinking of that now?_

**FOUR**

I stepped forward and screamed along with the next count.

**THREE**

Connor yelled along with the next.

**TWO**

With the final count, I figured, fuck it. I took his hand and gripped tightly. I felt him look at me and his hand tightened as we screamed:

**ONE**

A fresh rendition of _Auld Lang Syne_ blasted over the rooftops. Fireworks erupted as well, deafening over the music and voices permeating the city. I decided in that moment that an android New Year's was better than anything I've had before and I feebly prayed that this was being broadcast across the nation. We were happy here.

I didn't release Connor's hand immediately. I didn't want to. Maybe it was the people, watching them embrace and kiss without shame or fear, maybe it the music, the unity of android and human out in public celebrating the coming year of life and hope and new experiences together.

I tugged Connor closer, gripped his face in the hand that held the string around my fingers, and planted a firm kiss on his mouth.

One.

His mouth was closed.

Two.

_I just stole his first kiss._

I released and pulled back completely, noting the slightly parted mouth, his hand at his side without purpose. I looked out at the people and then over to Hank grinning ear to ear. I passed by Connor and gave the man a tight hug, opening my arm to summon Connor over to join us. The LED was spinning like a crash-landing UFO. He was disoriented.

He joined us in the embrace and we all released a couple moments later.

"Happy New Years, Hank," I said.

"Happy New Years, Connor," I said, softer. "We should uh, we should probably get out of here. Get back to your car."

I turned away without meeting either of their eyes, leading a few steps ahead of them both.

Once we were away from the crowds, Connor caught up to me.

"Why did you do that?" he asked. "Kiss me."

I wasn't sure what to say at first. "I - I wanted to."

"Because everyone else was? I understand it may have been uncomfortable for you to not participate."

He wasn't entirely wrong, but that wasn't it. "No. No," I said sternly, looking at him properly. "It - just happened."

He halted and looked back at Hank trailing us. "Hank, will you give us a few moments? We'll catch up."

"Yeah yeah, I get it," he said.

Connor waited for Hank to be several feet ahead before he spoke again. "I am simply confused. You have not provided much indication of attraction before tonight."

It was true. I didn't know what to call these _pangs_ I had been experiencing around him recently and maybe something inside had been holding me back from expressing or saying anything more blatant. Maybe I did take advantage of the mood in the plaza, seeking comfort and validation for something I couldn't quite pinpoint.

"I know... Connor, I-I want to do more stuff like this. You know, get you out and get you new experiences. But I may have been impulsive and selfish; I stole your first kiss. I'm assuming it was?"

He nodded.

"I should have waited," I said. "I'm sorry."

"I disagree. I'm glad you did. That is an experience I have not had."

A well of unrealized emotions had burst forth over the course of the night. I couldn't quite say I had developed _feelings_, more like curiosity, interest, attraction, definitely. But it was what I was thinking about earlier on the concrete that perhaps was holding me back: he was _young_.

Though, he would always be young. He would always be nearly 30 years younger. It would be stupid of me to dwell on that factoid. He had the ability to absorb a world's worth of information and data and analyze and optimize. He had already surpassed all of humanity in that aspect. Experience. He needed experiences.

"Might I - try it myself?" he asked, snapping me from my thoughts.

I wanted to. Part of me desperately wanted to give him that.

"I think it's best we wait. I'm not - I'm not refusing you, please believe that. I just - I don't think we should right now."

"YOU TWO GOING TO CATCH UP OR WHAT. I'M FREEZING MY BALLS OFF."

I hooked my index finger around his and tugged him forward to walk. I dropped it after another few steps and spoke again. "Connor, let's have more nights like this first. Okay?"

He nodded. My heart broke in that moment, confusing him like that. Part of me regretted the action, wondering how the night would have proceeded if I hadn't done anything. Or maybe I should have just stuck with the hand-holding.

_Fuck._

Connor caught up with Hank and I trailed. Hank and Connor whispered a few words to each other, perhaps discussing what had just occurred. I was surprised Hank wasn't sharing with the wind.

Eventually we made it back to the bar and their car. I gave each a kiss on the cheek, starting with Hank so that Connor wouldn't ask too many questions. Or perhaps I had just made it worse. I bid them a swift goodnight and started off down the block.

"Hey - hey," Hank ran up to me. I could see Connor's shadow in the vehicle. "What the hell was all that about?"

"Hank, I'm doing the right thing."

"Confusing the boy?"

"No, that wasn't my intention. Look, he's _young_, he's inexperienced, and we haven't known each other for very long, I don't - "

"Just stop right there. You're right, the two of you haven't known each other for very long, whatever the hell that means, you and I haven't known each other, but I know him. I know there's a part in there that's capable of genuine human emotion and friendship, and fuck, maybe even some goddamn _love_. I've seen it. The boy wants companionship. Why do you think I always call him a pain in my ass? He has been stuck to my side like glue on wood from the moment the goddamn department assigned him to me. And yeah, it was genuinely annoying for a while. But you know what I realized? It wasn't his programming, it was _him_. Loyal as all high heaven.

"He actually _asked_ me a couple weeks ago when we'd go to your bar again. He wanted to see you, talk to you. He _likes_ you. He just hasn't quite wrapped his head around how to express that yet. He's still putting words to his emotions. And who the fuck isn't? He needs a little help. Now are you gonna fucking help him or confuse him? Not asking for you to fuck him tonight but I will be damned if you walk off without a proper fucking kiss good night cause that shit back there SUCKED. Who the hell do you think you are telling him '_no'_."

I gazed off past Hank's angry eyes to the car and nodded in resigned guilt. "You're right," I said with a deep sigh. "You're right."

I was still holding the balloon and pushed it to Hank's chest. I shoved my keys at him as well, asking him to tie it up someplace inside.

I brushed past him and strode to the car. Connor's head lifted up as he watched me approach but he did not get out. I went to the driver's side, opened the door, and slid in behind the wheel, slamming the door shut to my side. His eyes widened briefly with the actions, but sat still, palms flat on his thighs.

I curled a leg up onto the seat to turn and look at him properly. "I'm sorry," I said.

"That is not necessary."

"Yes, it is. I - that shouldn't have been your first kiss. It should be… romantic and memorable and last more than a couple seconds."

_Geezus Christ_ I was just making this worse. I was not good at these things with human men as it was.

He turned his head to meet my eyes. "Did Hank put you up to this? I was respectful and didn't listen in on your conversation. I know he cares but I can't always tell if he just wants me away from him. I don't have many other places to go."

"Connor," I sighed. "He wants you to experience _life_. You have one now, a real one. I can see how much he cares for you, he's like a father. He just...made me realize I shouldn't walk away. I made the choice to come over. I - I want to try that again. Properly."

"I don't think this setting meets the criteria you just set," he said. Was he bitter? Confused, upset, sarcastic? Some mix of all of those and more.

I looked away for a moment then back to his tired gaze.

I know he wasn't _tired_ but he had the look of a deflated boy who picked his crush a daisy on the playground, wilting before he had a chance to present its beauty.

"You're right. Look I - I think I'm just going to go," I sighed. My movements were punctuated by thoughts, sliding my foot off the seat, reaching for the door, and stepping out.

I gently shut the door behind me and craned my head up. Perhaps it was the frigid night air, the steady low bursts of the midnight breeze, the flecks of off-white snow, but something tugged at the back of my eyes. _Lord, did I fuck that one up._

Almost immediately, I heard the car door creak open behind me and I crossed my arms tight, turning around. Connor said my name and stepped out with a hand on the top of the door frame, coming around the front of the car. A half-step forward to meet him and with an outstretched hand, he leaned forward and placed two fingers under my chin to slightly raise my face and angled in for a full, soft, and - after a proper moment - hypnotizing kiss. He broke away, perhaps to study my reaction (_What was my reaction? Oh yeah. Do that again._) He kissed me again, gently (cautiously) smiling into it this time, steady but provoking closer contact. His hand slid from my chin to grip the back of my neck, fingertips threading through my hair at the nape, his other hand gentle on my hip to urge us together. His mouth was warm, tender, begging, aching for the experience, slowly gaining momentum with each movement and changed angle. My breath puffed out to dissipate into the darkness every other second and I tugged at his lips for more, holy shit, more. I thought I had even heard a (simulated) groan. Perhaps it was my own breath reverberating against him. He may not have needed to breathe, but I did. I finally had to break off, gasping. I gripped his sides, clutching the heavy fabric, eyes trying to focus on the zipper pull halfway down his chest. His hands slid down my arms, and then fell away.

I looked back up at him, his piercing curious stare, slightly parted mouth, small indent on his bottom lip where I had bit. I did my best to catch my breath but failed miserably. It's like he had sucked my lungs dry. I pushed back, breaking all contact. I was grinning like an idiot and slapped the back of my palm against my mouth for a moment.

He shifted his balance and thread a hand through his hair, pushing the loosened strands back into place.

Finally I was able to speak. "I think - I need to get home. I need to get home." I parted with a low wave, nearly stumbling on myself, and trudged back towards the bar as fast as possible. I was disassociated: my body traveled in one direction leaving my soul trapped in Connor's lips. Hank had been watching, at least the end of it. He tossed my keys at me ("_Holy crap_") and I made off back to the townhouse a couple blocks away, my stupid grin refusing to be reabsorbed into my face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit, minor typos, 11/1/19


	4. An Interaction

The kiss was fantasy-inducing and it made me wonder how he knew how to do that so goddamn _well._ His programming? Not necessarily. He was built to be an interrogator and I'm fairly certain police officers didn't have a need to furiously make out with their suspects. But in the same vein, perhaps this was an advantage of his investigatory abilities, reading and optimizing the experience for the individual. For _me_. He _had_ mentioned in a previous conversation among us about his ability to analyze human behavior and psychology, accompanied by Hank's reproach.

"For example, Hank's resting heart rate -"

"Is just damn fine, Connor. I told you to cut that out. It's creepy."

"Should I share yours, Lana?"

"Um - no, no thanks, Connor. I'm with Hank on this one. I'm okay."

Or, just like with humans, he was just _that good_. A natural. I caught myself daydreaming more than once behind the counter and absolved to focus. I had to _focus_.

The balloon dog Connor had given me was now deflated, flattened against the mirror behind the bar. _Sparky_ was now _Sloppy_. But I did not want to throw it away. It made me smile with each glance.

I had several new patrons at the bar over the next week and a half. Business had been steadily increasing over the month despite the weather - _though, really, what better place to warm up from a Detroit winter?_ \- and then Hank stopped by in the middle of the second week, alone. I tossed up the container of juice as a chaff. He slipped into his stool without a word but bore a big knowing smile instead.

I really didn't need his commentary about the kiss he was privy to between Connor and I. So instead, I immediately initiated conversation. "Hey, stranger. What the hell have you been up to? And where's your buddy?"

"Mm, yeah, always going to have a nice stack of files around the holidays. Not everyone can be singing fucking _kum-ba-ya_ in front of the fireplaces. He's been on filing duty, still and always the suck-up. Just as well, needed to talk to you."

"All right, what is it now," I said.

"You're invited to dinner," he said.

"Who's inviting me?"

"Well, I am, because it's my house. Connor said you wanted to meet the dog. He asked me to invite you over. Is that true?"

"What's true?"

"You wanted to meet Sumo?"

"Yeah, that part is true. I said that when we were out the other night."

"Uh-huh. Any other reason?"

"Any other reason for _what_?" I rolled my eyes.

"You know, wanting to come over, see the dog, see the house, maybe see Connor's bedroom? Check out some _components_?"

There it was. I tossed the rag I had been using to wipe down the counter top at his chest. "Stop it! Okay! Geez, okay, you want me to thank you? Thank you for slapping the shit into me. I have feelings for your boy. Is that what you wanted to hear? And he's a good kisser."

"Woah woah woah, don't need the details, saw everything I needed to. Also, he is not my 'boy'-"

"Isn't he? At least a bit? You seem like a father to me, Hank."

He was silent and pushed back from the counter an inch.

"I'm sorry. Is that - should I not have said that?"

He drummed his fingers on the wood, brow furrowed, contemplating something. Bashing my head into the wall? Storming out? Tossing me in the drunk tank?

"I used to be," he said. "Used to be a dad. You're right. But that's not something I really like to discuss."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to anger you."

"No - no, it's just a little sensitive. Connor knows the whole story but...well, that's different."

"I get it, I'm sorry. Well, for whatever it is worth to you, you obviously care about him. However you want to perceive that."

"He's a good kid," he said, the calm returning to his voice. "So you going to come over or what?"

"You didn't tell me when, Hank."

"Oh, uh, Friday? If he's not done with our reports by then I swear I'm sending him in for an upgrade."

"Friday works perfectly. Should I bring anything?"

"How about I get the pick of the stock room?"

I dutifully recalled the comment Connor had made concerning Hank's prior 'self-destructive tendencies'.

"Again, like I said one of the first times you were here, I'd really rather not make Connor angry with me. And feeding your little habit with a full bottle will get me in a shit-ton of trouble. I'm not going to be an enabler, Hank. At least here you have your pickings of juice and syrups."

"Yeah, wouldn't want you to miss out on plastic dick over there."

I brushed my hair over my head with two hands, exasperated.

"I don't even know if he has one," he said. "Let me know."

* * *

Friday morning I saw an advertisement on television for a series of local community centers, _Carl's Place_. They began over the summer to encourage and promote creative art classes, theatre and performance, dance, as well as holding ticketed events. Demand was so high they kept the schedules for the winter and there was no sign of stopping. They were primarily meant to teach androids about their creative functions, but humans were welcome to attend as well, provided they interact with the android attendees (marketed as a "multicultural integrative unification project.")

Turns out the closest center was only a few blocks from me, so I took the hike through the few inches of snow to check out the schedule.

There was a painting class around six pm tonight and there was still room available. I knew we were scheduled for dinner at Hank's, but perhaps a small change of plans was in order. This could be Connor's next experience.

I grabbed a taxi and had it drop me off at the DPD. For the several times the two of them had been with me closing out the bar, I didn't have their numbers. And as cold as it was outside, I needed the fresh air.

Passing through the wide lobby to the front desk, I gave the receptionist my name and both of theirs. She called up with a blink of her LED. I couldn't tell who had answered.

"He'll be right down."

_Helpful._

I paced around in a circle, catching moments from the news in the mounted TV by the security gates. A local station was advertising skill upgrade centers in conjunction with the city library system. A few minutes later, I heard the soft clack of his footsteps on the polished tile and held my breath. I hadn't seen Connor since the holiday and that kiss in the street. I pushed the air out of my diaphragm and smiled upon his approach.

A small part of me wondered if he was thinking of that now. But we were at his workplace. It would not be appropriate. He gave a small nod in greeting. "Lana. Are you all right? Is there something wrong?"

"No, I - um, I wanted to talk to you but I realized I don't have either of your phone numbers, so I figured I'd come over in person."

"You could have dialed the Department directly and requested our desk lines. Their contact information is available online."

I chuckled through my nose and glanced around the lobby. Was he being a professional or missing the topic of conversation? "Yeah, you're absolutely right," I said with a nod. "I'll get right to the point then. There's an art class this evening at six at the community center near my house. I think the three of us should go. What do you think?"

"I will discuss with Captain Anderson. As long as I complete my work today, that sounds like it would be a pleasant experience. I have never attempted any form of art before. Thank you for informing me. Can you hand me your phone?"

I slipped it out of my back pocket and into his hand. One blip of the temple-light later and he said, "There. I apologize for not transferring that to you sooner. You now have both my and Captain Anderson's contact information and I yours. I must return to my desk now. Is that all?"

I took back the cell phone and nodded gently. "Yeah, I'll meet you later."

He nodded a good bye and turned on his heel; I waited a moment and then left, calling another cab.

* * *

I hadn't heard anything else one way or the other for the remainder of the day but set off for the center, arriving a few minutes early to wait outside the door. Not even a full minute later, both Connor and Hank rounded the corner of the block, passing under the shadows of the street lamps in the blanketing darkness, and waved hellos from the distance. Hank was distinctly sour beside his comparatively more-chipper partner. Connor broke a smile as he approached but again, he had not changed clothes. They probably came straight from the department. A thought stirred in my head that would have to wait until later.

"I'm glad you could both come, I know this was last minute," I said.

"Yeah well, this one wouldn't let me refuse. Hooray for me," Hank grumbled.

Connor bade me proceed with a light hand to my back and the three of us entered the center. It must have been a converted city school; track lighting, a singular long hallway with lockers on either side and a wide reception/office area off to the left. I saw a few signs along the concrete walls; the art class was further down the hall.

When we found the correct door a minute later, we entered a fairly long room, further evidence of it previously being a school still prominent. Cubbies along one wall with excess desks and chairs pushed aside. The American and Michigan state flags were still hanging from their poles and a third flag, emblazoned with the symbol of free androids, accompanied them.

The setup for tonight, though, immediately reminded me of when drinking and painting nights were popular. Women would bring along their reluctant-turned-sarcastic partners who, rather than painting the agreed-upon piece - typically a fruits-in-a-bowl or tree-on-a-hilltop assignment - would sneak in their own characters, thereby _improving_ said piece tenfold.

Though not full, several others were already in attendance, milling about. Hank and Connor were muttering between each other as I went over to a table set up along the wall adorned with pamphlets of their other programs. I also noted no alcohol, but a fresh plate of cookies was set out. _Considerate_.

"Welcome," said a female voice behind me. I turned around to a tall blonde woman in an artist's frock. "I am Beatrice," she said, holding out a hand. "I will be the instructor this evening."

"Lana," I said, shaking it.

She smiled broadly. "Who are you here with?"

I nodded past her where Connor and Hank were exchanging some terse words. Reluctance? Work frustration? "Uh - those two. The old one is a human, as well. I wanted to get them out."

"I see. I believe I recognize the young one. He is friends with Markus."

"Oh, yeah, I suppose. He was involved that night in November last year."

"That is incredibly impressive. I will have to introduce myself. Thank you for coming, it's a pleasure meeting you."

Through rather than exchanging pleasantries, she took to the head of the row of easels. This was obviously some indication to everyone except Hank and myself to sit down, although we followed suit. Hank nearly got distracted by the cookie table when Connor hissed his name to _come be good_.

We sat near the middle of the row. I strategically pivoted Hank to take a seat between myself and a graceful silver-haired woman. The blue glow on her temple was barely perceptible from beneath her hair. He gave me the stink eye but kept his mouth shut and paid attention as Beatrice spoke.

_I can set you up, too_, I wanted to say.

"Thank you all so much for coming this evening. For those of you who don't know, this center was opened as part of Markus' vision to encourage the arts among us all. He once served Carl Manfred, a painter, a good man who taught Markus about freedom and creative thought...painting, literature, and music. Those lessons and values stayed with Markus and his hope for this new society. This class is going to be unique tonight. We have two activities planned. The first piece will be of your own choosing. We have a selection of pieces up on the wall if you notice which you can imitate. What we want to accomplish here is that you focus not on copying the piece exactly but use your own individual skills to simply _do your best_. Or don't! Be unique! The second piece will be a team effort. You will partner up with the individual beside you, and thankfully we do have an even number tonight, and you will both paint one half of a single piece. Again, uniqueness and creativity are the goals for this evening."

"I'm going to apologize right now," I heard Hank mutter under his breath to the woman beside him.

Connor pivoted on his chair to face forward and hunched down slightly to speak to me.

"I want to apologize for earlier today when you came by the station. It was unexpected. It was good to see you but I could not express it in the lobby. I hope you did not take my conduct as apathy towards your appearance."

I smiled, leaning over, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, lingering for a moment.

"Does that mean you forgive me?"

"Yes." It was hard not to smile when talking with him.

"I am glad. I missed you." He sat up straight again. "I'm not sure what I should choose to paint. What do you think?"

"Well, before anything, take off your uniform jacket so you don't get paint on it."

"I will be careful," he said.

"Just - take it off. I'll hang it up on the wall."

"All right." He began to shrug it off and I stood up, helping him tug his arms out and draped it on an old 3M hook behind us. I unbuttoned my cardigan and hung it up as well. When I returned, he had rolled up his sleeves - tie still perfectly straight and pinned - and began on one of the options. Hank was dabbing his brush in and out of the paint. Any faster and it would end up on the floor.

At the end of the first hour, there were green specks of paint on Hank's beard and hands, Connor's bridge-over-a-river was something out of a flea-market children's book, and my flower vase was filled with carnivorous plants.

There was a short break to wash up and pick up fresh canvases from the far wall. I took my and Connor's paintings to rest along the wall with the others. Beatrice informed us we could pick them up tomorrow once they had all dried. Hank brushed past me on the way back to our seats.

"_Help me_," he muttered.

"With what?"

"She's really good at this."

I laughed under my breath. "I heard the two of you commenting to each other during the first session, Hank. You seem to be getting along."

He scoffed and we returned to our stools where he finally discarded his jacket on the floor, turned to the woman beside him and asked, "Now what?"

Connor and I looked at each other. "Okay," he said. "I think Hank asked what I was already thinking. What would you like to paint?"

"Well, I think that should really be your decision. That's why we're here. What do you want to do?"

"I think we should paint Sumo," he said with a small nod. "He's a large Saint Bernard. I have a picture of him for reference. My phone is in the left inside pocket. Would you mind getting that for us?"

I found it quickly and handed it over. He unlocked it and showed me the image.

7:22 pm

The dog was his wallpaper. Standing outside on what I assumed to be Hank's front yard. I had to giggle. He really had a thing for this dog. He was a beautiful beast.

"I'll paint the head and torso," he said.

"Oh, I get to do the legs and his ass then?" I asked as I slid the phone back into his jacket and returned to my seat.

He laughed with me and then suggested we move our easels closer together. "To make sure both halves of his body line up exactly. Otherwise we may have a very small head and a very large rear end," he said, chuckling again at the thought of a disproportionate mutated canine. "That would not be pleasant."

"Okay, good idea." I got up and pushed my easel and stool closer to his. We were just barely brushing shoulders and the canvases now created one long piece with the seam in the middle.

"How about you start," I suggested. "Get the head in position to give me an idea of the rest of the body."

A few minutes into watching the face of Sumo come into being, I glanced over to see how Hank and his partner were doing. From Hank's half I could barely discern the outline of _Nighthawks_. I'm guessing she must have assisted with that. But he seemed to be enjoying himself and was able to make a bit of small talk.

I angled myself slightly on my stool to watch Connor. He chewed the inside corner of his bottom lip trying to get the pup's eyes right.

After another minute or two in which he outlined the first half of the body, I had what I needed to begin on my half of the piece.

By 8:15, time was up and we were instructed to look and walk around to see each other's paired works. I was impressed with ours. Sumo was a giant lounging pile of dog. When Hank noticed what we did, he came over and clapped us on our backs. "Hey! This might just be good enough to hang in the living room!"

Connor smiled widely in response. "I am glad it looks like him," he said.

I circled in the other direction and introduced myself to the woman who was partnered with Hank.

"Danielle," she replied. "I assume you know Hank?"

"Yeah, yeah we're all friends," I said. I beckoned Connor closer with a light touch to his forearm. "Look at his," I told him, motioning to the piece. To her, I asked, "Whose idea was this one?"

"Your friend's. He has good taste. This is a classic."

"Well, I think you both did very well. Have you ever done one of these before?"

"Only once, but I must say, this time was much more fun. Your friend has a crazy sense of humor. He is quite cranky."

"That's one way to put it," I said. I nodded and smiled at her again, rounding the rest of the row. I hooked a couple fingers around Connor's and tugged him along, Hank following a pace behind. We stopped around each set of paintings for a few seconds and when we neared back to our station, I noticed Hank had diverted himself to the cookie table. Danielle was beside him, chatting in his ear.

Beatrice thanked us all again for coming, asking us to consider making a donation on the way out. "Leave your art but please provide your names and phone numbers so we know whose is whose."

We did so and the men retrieved their jackets and I slipped back on my sweater. I handed a $50 straight to Beatrice; the androids, including Connor, lined up to complete their transactions via their LEDs. The three of us then left, Hank grunting a goodbye to Danielle.

We strode several feet down the sidewalk before Hank turned around to face us, still walking backwards. "Hey," he said, "we still doing dinner? I'm fucking starving. Huffing paint for a couple hours will do it to me. Come on, car's parked around the corner."

"It appears you were enjoying yourself as well. Did you make friends with your painting partner?" Connor asked him.

Hank grunted.

I answered for him. "Oh, you absolutely were! I saw her chatting you up at the end there. You know what she told me? She. Had. Fun." I looked up at Connor to see him break a smile as well. "She had a good night because of Hank Anderson."

"Yeah yeah yeah. I'm a real catch, who wouldn't want to be around me."

"I detect sarcasm, Hank," Connor chipped in. "But I can tell that she gave you her number, there is slightly more volume in your left jacket pocket than when we first arrived. On a napkin, perhaps?"

Hank let out a long low grunt, shoved his hand in his pocket and withdrew … a napkin from the cookie table. I had to say I was impressed by the deduction. He shoved it back in and then shuffled for his keys.

"Hank! You have to call her!"

"Shhhhh, yeah yeah, come on, get in already. Really starting to chap my ass here..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor edit, 9/17/19, added section divider


	5. A List

On the way, Connor asked Hank if he had enjoyed himself.

"Wasn't as bad as it could have been. Gotta get this shit out when we get home, though," he said, trying to pick the dried paint from his hair.

"Would you like me to get that for you?" Connor asked, leaning forward.

Hank waved back a hand and Connor returned to my side. I held his hand between us and asked, "Did you like that class?"

"I did. I'm glad you discovered it today. I'd like to do it again."

"Good, we should. I'm sure they'll be doing lots of things there. I wonder if Markus ever comes down to check out how they're doing."

"Wouldn't that be something. That's one guy I'd like to meet. The balls on him. Whoo... Look, home sweet home," Hank said. The car bumped over the sidewalk and haphazardly halted on what must have been the driveway, snow crunching underneath.

Old fluorescent street lamps flickered with fireflies and moths, garbage cans were strewn along the streets, and dirty snow pushed aside in small heaps. This neighborhood must not have been touched by the rehabilitation project yet.

Connor strode along beside me. "You get to meet Sumo," he said. A note of eagerness lined his voice.

He beckoned me to enter after Hank, shutting and locking the door after us, and slipped off his shoes. I pulled off my boots so as to not trudge the snow and sludge in the man's house and then stepped inside a few feet. The single-floor home of two bachelors carried the typical mess through the living room to the kitchen in the back (though as my assumption would later prove, this was the mess of one bachelor who kept negating the cleaning habits of the other). The TV was on low broadcasting a football game, crates of records and magazines lined the walls, a small folding table to the side of the sofa was home to a crushed soda can and used fork.

I heard the click of paws to my side coming from the long hallway.

The man of the house: Sumo. Hank had already disappeared somewhere and Connor immediately went to greet the dog. "Come," he said, reaching out a hand to beckon me over. Sumo nosed for a whiff and then plopped down for head scratches from Connor. I knelt down beside him and joined in on petting Sumo's side.

"You stay with Sumo, I'll begin dinner. Hank is not very pleasant when he's hungry."

"Connor."

"Yes."

"Do you ever take off that uniform?"

He nodded with a brief smile. "I will do so right now."

Sumo and I were happy on the floor and it gave me an opportunity to look around. I was just barely able to look down the hallway that extended past the kitchen, snapping back my attention to the dog when one of the doors opened. Hank returned to the living area first, grunting a laugh at the sight of us. He had changed into boxer shorts and a grey hoodie. "Hope this doesn't offend you," he said. He reached down a hand to pet his dog's head, and straightened back up with an audible crack in his spine. "Geezus."

He went around to the kitchen table and started cleaning up. I stood, first to offer to help, and then paused when Connor came out of the room at the end of the hallway. He had lost the jacket and tie, unbuttoned a couple buttons of his shirt, and rolled up the sleeves to his elbows.

"Much better," I said. "I approve."

"Excellent."

Connor joined Hank in the kitchen and suggested I sit down as well.

"So," Hank said, "I learned something about you today."

"Did you?" I asked. "And what exactly would that be?"

"Hm, I'd like to hear it from you."

"Hank, I'm sorry, I did not realize we invited her over for an interrogation," Connor said. "Usually those take place at the department." While sarcastic, it was also obvious he had no idea where Hank was going with this sudden statement.

"No no, just a little tidbit about a _family member_. Turns out we know the guy pretty damn well," Hank said with a slight glance back at Connor, waving a hand in the air in a vague gesture.

"Ah." I took in a deep breath through my nose and pushed out through my mouth with my next words: "I really wasn't very eager on telling you about that."

Connor halted chopping carrots on the counter and turned to look at me, inquisitive. Hank sat with wide eyes and asked, "You gonna tell us or what?"

"Yeah. Yeah..." I looked at them both as I spoke. "Gavin Reed is my cousin. I know I should have told you that when we first met, but I don't know what good it would have done. Not exactly proud to share blood with the man. That's why I didn't say anything. I hate him just as much as the two of you. I'm sorry. Really."

In previous nights whenever Hank and Connor told me about Gavin and his constant continuing douchebaggery, how he used to yell slurs at Connor, tried to force him into altercations, making inappropriate comments during investigations, I had to bite my tongue. I really hadn't wanted them to know we were related, make an assumption about me, and then never return. It was a stupid thing to hide, knowing that Hank or Connor very well may have slipped my name into conversation at work and Gavin, being the gossipy nosy turd he is, would have found out they knew me.

Hank's wheels were spinning, evidenced by the crinkled up brow, pursed mouth, and irritated foot shaking across his knee. Connor resumed prepping dinner, though at a slower pace than when he first began.

_He just learned he had kissed a relative of the racist dickhead who probably would have given him a _swirly_ if he had the chance. How did you think this was going to go?_

"So how'd uh - how did you figure this out?" I asked Hank.

"Dick-bag told me when I came into work. Apparently he had spotted the two of you chatting in the lobby."

"Ah. Well, I'm- I am sorry. Honestly. Forgive me. He's not pleasant. And we aren't in contact. I don't talk to him. Given how everything is now, I'm surprised he's still around."

"Might be a shit, but he's a good detective. Though I stuck him on desk duty soon as I could," Hank said. "Little fucker. He's already been on probation and he knows he acts up one more time, he's out. So you two don't talk?"

"No," I said adamantly. "We've said all there needs to be said, Hank. I made it very clear to stay out of my business. He uh - " For some reason, I was hesitant about getting into this, but it would seem more suspicious if I didn't give them the full story. "- he was pretty pissed when he learned he didn't receive more of the inheritance I had mentioned. It wasn't exactly split evenly. He received some of the items from the house, but I got the money, the house itself, and the staff of androids. Gavin came to my place a couple times to try and negotiate but I wouldn't budge. I'm using most of it for the bars and investments later once I figure out what I'm doing... upkeep of the house and pay the staff. I donated a portion directly to Markus' organization to redistribute. And I've got a bit in personal savings. Didn't really see any more space for my shit cousin."

"Whose fortune was this?" Connor asked.

"Grandfather. Gavin and I are related through our parents. He's my mother's brother's son."

"Any other relatives?" Hank asked.

"No," I said. "No one alive or speaking to each other anyway."

"So between you and Gavin, you were what, the safer bet?"

Hank and Connor both looked at me with their policeman gazes. "I honestly don't know, I only met the man a couple times when I was younger. He came out to visit and that was it."

"I'm going to take one guess where he made all this cash. Rich guy in Detroit," Hank said. "CyberLife."

I nodded. "An engineer with smart investments. And I'm going to guess that's why he didn't want Gavin to have more: Gavin's always been very adamant and vocal about his hatred. Probably said the wrong thing at the wrong time and shot himself in the foot."

"How did your grandfather die?" Connor asked. He brought over two plates for Hank and I, seasoned chicken breast with vegetables. It smelled wonderful.

"Thank you," I said. And then to answer his question, "The police report said an accidental overdose. But honestly I don't quite believe that."

"Why's that?" Hank said over his knife.

"Because of the assigned officer on the case...I believe it was Gavin. I never saw the paperwork, I learned all of this second-hand from the estate lawyer. When I went to the house for the first time after this happened, to take control of the estate, everything still seemed to be in place and not a lot of medications anyway, even for an older man. His housekeeper said he was always quite fit. Just… doesn't really sit right with me."

Connor sat in the chair between us and crossed his arms in front of him. He leaned forward, the LED spinning with suspicion.

"I smell motive," Hank said.

"I would agree," Connor said.

He waited for me to swallow, like waiters at restaurants who ask you how you're enjoying your meal just as you've taken a sloppy bite of rare steak.

"I mean, I understand why he was angry, being jipped like that," I finally said. "We know he's got some jealously and anger issues. I wouldn't be surprised if he had _something_ to do with it."

"Maybe the dickbag poisoned the uncle, thinking he'd get the cash a little quicker." Hank posited through chews of the chicken. He was not keen on the vegetables.

Connor straightened back up and looked at Hank properly. "I think we should review the case file tomorrow. Do you know if Gavin was having any personal struggles? That would provide further motive."

"Guy's got all sorts of _struggles_. Anyway, tomorrow's Saturday, kid. We're not on shift. Enjoy the weekend. Nothing's going to change in two days."

"Hank, if we suspect that Detective Reed is involved in this in any way, shouldn't we take a look when he's _not_ in the office?"

Hank grunted in pride. '_Connor not obeying by the rules? I'm so proud,'_ I imagined him thinking. I could nearly see the gleam in Hank's eyes. "Yeah, you got a point. Dickshit can't know what we're up to. Fine, I'll meet you there."

Connor then returned his gaze to me, brighter than just a moment ago and asked, "Are you enjoying the meal?"

I nodded with a forced smile over another mouth full of vegetables. "I am," I said after my swallow, "Thank you so much." I rubbed his forearm lightly with my hand in another _thank you_ gesture.

"Hey, I realized you never answered by question about food," I said.

Hank let out a deep "_Nooooooo"_ which I ignored with a shake of my head.

"What happens if you eat?"

"I will only be damaged under extreme temperatures or excessive volume of the biomass. Any matter ingested would need to be expelled."

"Hey, no, don't encourage this," Hank said. He really did not want to see this function.

_Malfunction_?

"What do you mean, 'expel'? You don't have a digestive system… so, you just throw it up?"

"Would you like me to demonstrate?"

"_NOOOOOOOOO_."

I nodded and Connor stood. He beckoned me over to the sink with a nod. I gripped the edge of the countertop with one hand, the other on my hip, and watched.

Connor scooped a small handful of the leftover steamed vegetables with a fork and proceeded to eat them, as anyone normally would. And then he swallowed. He held up a finger and with one hand he pressed in on his throat and I heard a very soft click. The front piece gave way which he placed on the counter, revealing one obvious biocomponent in his throat among the cords and tubes carrying the blue blood. I assumed that was his vocal box. But as I looked closer, morbid curiosity etched on my own face, I could see the carrots behind that piece. He removed the one visible component while also leaning over the sink.

And _ta-da_, his party trick. The chewed up carrots and peas dropped into the basin. With his other hand, he released a sanitizer spray and then clicked back in the one biocomponent and with another click reattached the front of his throat.

He released a very dramatic cough, pounding his chest, and then smiled.

"You aren't as disgusted as Hank was when he saw that. It's impressive."

"That's because the first time was with spaghetti and it hit a little too close to home. Reminded me of the Chestburster," Hank said from our side.

Connor shook his head. "I don't understand."

But I laughed and Hank turned around to look at me. "You know what I'm talking about?"

"Of course!"

I looked back at Connor. "It really wasn't that bad. It was fascinating, actually. I've never seen the inside of androids before… Hey, Hank, do you have _Alien_?"

"Probably on streaming," he said.

"Would you mind?" I came over to look at him properly while talking. "I don't want to intrude."

"It's been a big night of fun, hasn't it?" Hank said. "Stay as long as you want. It's nice to have some other company."

"Okay," I said.

"Before we begin, I need to take Sumo out for a walk. Would you like to join?" Connor asked me.

Sumo knew those words; he perked up and led himself to the door.

I nodded, "Of course!"

"Thanks," Hank said. "Enjoy."

Outside a few minutes later, Connor holding the leash, Sumo leading us to wherever the mood struck him, we walked, enjoying the silence of this late Friday night. The neighborhood was mostly vacated; a few who couldn't afford to leave remained, perhaps others simply didn't want to. It was relaxing to see Connor out of his police jacket; he had probably lived in it from the moment he was constructed.

"Connor, I - I want to apologize for not telling you Gavin and I were related. Honestly, I was afraid. I don't know why. Just - listening to how he treated you - it's infuriating."

He didn't answer immediately, readjusting his grip on Sumo's leash. "I understand. I think. You may have thought we would have judged you too quickly. But I don't. You are nothing alike."

"Yeah.. yeah thank God."

After another few moments, I thought of another topic to change the subject: "What do you want to do next, Connor?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, now that you're free, is there anything else you want to do? Any new interests over the past year?"

"I actually have not given it much thought. When I am not at the police station, I am taking care of Hank's house or we are at your bar for the night."

"What about your free time? Do you listen to Hank's music?"

"I have listened to his entire collection several times. He likes death metal… it's… very loud," he said with a laugh. "He does have one which I enjoyed. Britney Spears' _Oops! I Did It Again_. Released in 2000. Hank wasn't happy when I found that one. I think it was from his secret pile. But I have purchased a few of my own as well. A variety of music."

"Okay, well, let's think then. I'll make a list," I said. I took out my phone and started a new note. "What about concerts? Like a stage concert or an orchestra?"

"Both of those sound fun. The orchestra first."

"Okay… hmm, have you been to the movies yet?"

"No."

"Really? All right, that's number three."

"A picnic in the park. Once the weather is nicer. I think Hank needs fresh air and Sumo can get out of the house, too."

"That does sound nice, you all can have a good outing together."

He looked down at me. "Will you join us?"

I was slightly taken aback at the question. Certainly, I didn't want this momentum to stop that we had all found but I was never one to look into the future.

"I would like that," I replied instead. And it was true.

"I don't know how to ride a bike. Or a motorcycle. Hank doesn't let me drive his car, either."

"I could help you with the car," I said.

"Do you have your own?"

"Yes. My grandfather left a couple at the estate. I took one back with me."

"Have you been there again since he died?"

"Yeah, actually I try to go about once every few weeks to check. There's a few of the original staff who wanted to stay around. I see how everyone's doing. Not much to do during the winter. I imagine I'll be there more once the weather clears."

"When did you first come to Detroit?"

"When the lawyers contacted me. Around April '38 is when I flew in to sign the property documents. Took some time to get everything in order. I had every intention of going home but then, well honestly, I didn't want to. I liked it here. I didn't want my own android, but the culture was fascinating. I - realize how that sounds now, I'm sorry. I purchased the bars and started to grow the business.

"And then I was starting to see what was happening on the news. One of the droids at the house became deviant, it must have been late that October. I promised I could keep him safe as long as he was quiet. I had no idea how to free him, to get him to Canada. The estate is secluded up by the lake, they were fine there, but we couldn't risk a boat, even though we had one. Border patrol would be out. So they stayed. I made sure I was there right after Markus made his speech because at that point, it was only a matter of time. Some others appeared who were seeking to cross the border but I had them hide in the wine cellar. They didn't all like it, but it became a group decision. I made a mess of the house so it looked like I was the only one there. If it was too clean, it would have looked suspicious.

"I got rid of anything around the house that would have linked it to CyberLife, I probably burned thousands of documents and research papers and books. Had to get rid of everything. I was scared to death, Connor. They were, too. Being with them, seeing real true horror and confusion on their faces. Found some Valium because I didn't trust my own nerves not to give me away.

"It was… fucking terrifying. I'm nothing short of lucky that we all survived. There was only one officer in the end who showed up. Told him I already turned in my 'droids. Tricked them into taking a ride with me.

"I had convinced one of them to give me a component, a body part, his hand, that I would show off to the officer as a trophy. I think that really helped. He believed it, the sick fuck. Thank fuck," I muttered.

We had stopped so Sumo could do his business against a fallen mail box. Connor looked at me, his head tilted. "That was incredibly strong and brave of you. I know they're grateful. I think you made the right choice by not trying to use the boat. As soon as Markus made that speech, everything went to shit. I don't know if there would have been another way. Many sacrificed themselves, they were martyrs. I'm sorry you went through that. But they would have died without you, they needed you."

"Yeah, it's interesting how life works out, isn't it. Everything recently, it's been crazy, everything happening so quickly, feeling like it's all dissolved and then we look and… how quickly it's already rebuilding. Without the military and the politics and the red tape, it lets us work together and build back up; once we can prove that, then maybe the rest of the country will finally learn. I just - I can just barely remember when I was a kid, really young, all the mass shootings in America. People of different races being separated from their family members. It never ends."

"It will. I have hope this time," Connor said. Sumo was tugging on the leash and wanted to go home. We turned around and started walking back. "We were working on the list of things I want to do. I thought of another."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"The museums in Washington DC."

I smiled and added that to his list. I was feeling a little deflated after that conversation. Thinking back to my nights at the house with the androids, never imagining I would be involved in something like that. But he was right. I should be proud of myself for helping them.

"I would, too. Once things calm down. How about the zoo? There's one here."

"Yes, a zoo and aquarium."

We walked in silence, temporarily out of ideas. He paused on the sidewalk just outside of Hank's house. "There is one more thing I'd like to do. I would like to take you on a date."

I smiled softly and looked down at our feet, Sumo's paws off to the right, Connor's polished shoes before me, dead weeds between concrete slabs flattened under slushy ice and heavy footfalls.

He said my name. _Is something wrong?_

I looked up at him and nodded. "I would like that….I'd really like that. Just please don't invite Hank," I said. I really hoped he knew that was a joke.

He laughed, "No, of course not. But I'm sure he'll want to hear all the details. Good. I was afraid you might have refused." He led us back inside and unhooked Sumo's leash, the dog proceeding to find his human.

Connor and I wiped down the table from dinner and then I went over to the television and sat on the edge of his coffee table in an attempt to find the previously-discussed film somewhere online.


	6. A Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Innuendos in this chapter are dedicated to my good friend, Suzie. Buzz buzz ~AM

Connor sat behind me on the sofa and Hank stumbled over to the recliner, cranking himself back in a jolt. Sumo padded around to plop in the middle of the floor.

It was starting to look like family movie night.

"How was the walk?" Hank asked.

"We made a list of things I want to do," Connor said. "And it turns out Lana was involved in saving several androids during the sweeps."

Hank raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Man, you have guts. Got a couple rebels in the house. Congrats."

"Yeah, have Connor tell you the story tomorrow. Ah hah!" Three different services later, I found the movie and hit play, making back to the sofa.

"Hey - " Hank said mid-step. "Get the light for us."

"Of course."

Taking care of that task, I returned. Connor was sitting straight with his right arm along the rest. I took the left side and curled my feet under me.

Hank coughed. Loudly.

I scooted over, flung my legs out on the cushions and leaned against Connor's left side, grabbing his arm to hold onto over my shoulder. His fingers flexed to my touch.

Hank coughed again. Softly.

"Do you need a glass of water, Hank?" Connor asked. Oblivious or just snarky? I was starting to feel that Connor was taking advantage of his previously-ignorant state and incorporate it into a dry deadpan sense of humor. I couldn't entirely tell.

"No, no, I'm fine. Watch the movie, Connor. It's a good one."

About a half hour in, I had to adjust myself. I curled my legs to my left side this time, half sitting up but remained flush against Connor's side. He kept his arm propped up on the cushions behind me, every once in a while running a finger over my shoulder.

Finally, the chestburster.

"That was disgusting, Hank. I'm sorry my feature reminded you of this scene. I won't do it again," Connor said.

"Thanks."

I must have nodded off shortly after because when I next opened my eyes, Hank was gone from his chair and Sumo had disappeared as well. I pushed up against Connor who retrieved his arm.

"I didn't want to wake you," he said. "Would you like to go to bed?"

_Where_ would be the question.

"Yeah, but I should probably get going," I said, adjusting myself to swing my feet to the floor.

"Hank has expressed permission that you can stay here for the night. You are welcome to my bed. I don't use it."

So then what the hell did he _do?_ Low-power mode standing in the corner with the roomba?

I weighed my options. Grab a taxi home and freeze my ass off this time of night. Sleep on the sofa and get Cheeto dust in my hair. Sleep in Connor's bed.

"Would that - are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Come." He stood and offered out a hand to help me up. My legs tingled briefly from being in one position but the sensation dissipated after a couple steps.

He led me down the hallway and whispered, pointing to the rooms, "Here is the bathroom. I clean it every morning but I can't guarantee what it's like now. That is Hank's room. This is mine." He opened the door and bade me enter with a light press to my arm. He flipped on the light. It was exactly how I imagined it to be. It was small, clean, nothing out of order. A dresser was against one wall, twin bed against the other, a low bookcase under the window with a couple paperbacks flat on top. Looking at the dresser, my thought from earlier returned. It could wait.

"I will be in the living room if you need me," he whispered. Before I could say anything, he had left and clicked shut the door behind him.

I sighed and began to strip. I placed my phone on the small side table beside the bed. Cardigan, button up, jeans, socks. I opened the dresser and set them just inside. As suspected, his selection was minimum and repetitive. A couple white button downs for work, the black jacket he wore out on New Year's, his uniform, two more pairs of dark jeans. I shut the door and stood for a moment, contemplating again. The heat pulsed from a vent in the floor. I stood now in boy shorts and tank top, half tempted to just burrow myself in the bed.

I heard faint whispering from the hallway. I approached the door, hoping the floor wouldn't creak. Hank must have caught Connor returning to the living room.

"- going to drill her."

"I don't understand. A drill is a power tool with a rotating tip used to produce holes -"

"No, kid, you know..." There was silence for a few moments.

"That's not a form of sign language I recognize, Hank. Please explain."

"Forget it, I shouldn't be talking like this. She's a nice girl."

"I agree. Good night, Hank."

_Click_.

I waited a good 30 seconds or so before I opened the door and went over to the bathroom. Per Connor's warning, it was a bit of a mess with misplaced items. Clothes strewn atop of a hamper instead of inside, a single Chinese food container atop a shelf - I really hoped it was empty -, and as I brought down the toilet seat, an empty beer bottle atop the commode.

I splashed water on my face and dried with the closest towel - praying it wasn't for Hank's ass -, shut the light and the door, and went to look for Connor.

In the darkness, I didn't see him immediately. But then there was that blue light, softly glowing. He was on the sofa, sunk into the cushions with one ankle over the other knee, head lolled and hair splayed backwards. He heard my approach and shifted to look at me properly.

"Lana. Is everything all right? Do you need something?"

"I wondered if - you'd join me," I said.

"I don't want to disturb you."

"I don't think you will."

I wasn't sure at first if he would agree, but after a few seconds, he stood and followed me back to the room and clicked the door shut softly behind him. I sat on the end of the bed at first, hesitant. It had been a long while since I shared a bed with anyone. I wasn't even contemplating being intimate with him; I didn't want that. Not this soon. (_Was he even… equipped?_) He was thinking about something as well, having not moved again immediately.

He walked around to the other side of the bed and proceeded to unbutton the rest of his shirt. I stood, which interrupted him, wanting to finish it myself.

He didn't say anything, simply watching the motions. I focused on one at a time and avoided his eyes while doing so. Revealing his torso an inch at a time, abs smooth and perfectly defined (_of course, he was_). He allowed me to slip it off and hang it up.

He undid and pulled out the belt himself, rolling it up to set within an organizer in the top of the dresser.

At that moment, I slid a hand down his arm and turned to the bed. I tugged back the covers and laid down on my side away from him.

"Do you want me to join you?"

"Yeah," I said, looking over my shoulder.

I watched him step out of those jeans, revealing his ass in boxer briefs. If he was not designed with genitals, there was really no point in underwear…unless to keep humans comfortable. _Had he… planned for this? _I had to focus my eyes upwards. _That is not something to discover tonight, Lana. Stop. _He was slender and extremely fit. _CyberLife wasn't going to make a pudgy investigator, now would they. _It seemed like all the hair was isolated at the top of his head, tousled over, a stark contrast to his typically polished appearance of every strand in its rightful place.

"Is that... okay?" I asked.

"I'm… nervous. It's silly," he said.

I smiled slightly, remembering our conversation about emotions before. I liked that he was vocal and honest. It was a nice contrast to others who would be quite smug at this stage in virile anticipation.

He knelt on the bed with one leg first, pivoting himself to lie down, his left side flush with my back in the small bed, and pulled up the covers. "How should I position myself for you?"

I turned over enough to grab his right hand with mine and then tugged until he understood.

"'Spooning'," I said softly. I was ready to sleep. "The little spoon is on the inside, the big spoon is on the outside." I tugged again to hold him tighter and scooched back to align us, holding his arm tight to my chest.

"That is an odd phrase, but it does make sense. Spoons are curved. Like this."

I felt his chest, a very soft and steady hum.

"The pump."

"What about it?"

"I can feel it."

"Does it bother you?"

"No. I like it. It's soothing."

"That's good," he said. "May I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Hank suggested something earlier but I don't know what he meant. Something I assume was inappropriate."

_Oh lord_. "Yeah, I heard you two talking."

"Can you explain?"

I sighed and rolled over to my stomach, pushing myself up on my elbows and looked down at him. His hand had slid to my lower back, a couple fingers on exposed skin.

I ran my hands over my face and sighed again. "He wants to know if we're going to have sex. If you were interested in that. The phrase he used, the word - _drilling_ \- it has a lot of meanings. But, you know, imagine the drill pushing the screw into the hole, Connor. It's an analogy."

He looked at me, the light spun furiously and then stopped.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

I returned to my side away from him. He slung his arm back over to hold tight, the smooth hum lulling me to a quick sleep.

* * *

I awoke to darkness and heard Connor rustling at the dresser. I flipped over my cellphone. 5:30am.

"I'm sorry to wake you, Lana. I'm dressing for work."

I stretched and flipped over, crossing my arms up over the blankets to watch. He was straightening his tie. "I thought Hank said not to go in today."

"I changed his mind, remember? Even if he had said no, I don't always listen to him," he said with a small rebellious smile. "I want to find the case file. I'm still suspicious after our conversation during dinner."

"Okay," I sighed. "Thanks. Curious what you find out."

He nodded and left the room. I listened to his steps down the hall and out the door before lying back and dozing off again.

It must have been a few hours later when I woke again; the light was streaming through the window. I pushed myself up and decided to welcome myself to Hank's coffee pot.

Five minutes later I was hunched over my mug at their kitchen table, thinking about the _drilling_ conversation from last night, and collapsed my forehead into my hands. Sumo padded over and took a spot against my leg to rest. I reached down a hand to give him scratches behind the ears and then heard Hank coming down the hallway and looked up to greet him.

We simultaneously screamed and cursed and I nearly knocked my mug into my lap.

"Fucking H. Christ, I didn't know you were still here-"

"Close your damn robe, Hank, shit-"

"It's my house, Connor's out by now-"

"Just fucking close it, Hank-"

"It's closed, it's closed, look. All right. Sorry. Forgot you were still here. So was that the first or second dick you've seen in the house this weekend?"

"Shit, Hank…"

"Sorry, sorry, I need to clean up my mouth, not used to having a woman around."

"No, it's fine, I don't mind your mouth but can you think about holding back a bit around Connor? Or when discussing Connor? Or talking to Connor? He asked me what you meant by 'drilling' last night. Little too soon, Hank. Too soon."

"No promises." Hank was leaning against the sink and motioned with his own coffee cup. "You clear it up for him?"

He received a glare as my reply. To change the subject, I asked, "Are you going to call Danielle?"

A grunt.

"Think about it. She liked you."

"How could you tell?"

"She told me. She thought you were funny."

"No, how can you tell if it was genuine? Do you really think they feel like we do? The same confused mixed bullshit we wake up with every day?"

"I do. I do believe they feel fear, I know that from being with them. They feel happiness, but whether or not those are true emotions or perhaps a virus or an inconsistency in their programming, if maybe they're just learning and mimicking human behavior…" I shook my head. "That wouldn't explain the sudden conversion. They describe the feeling like being woken up from a fever dream. They're…different than they were before, they broke through an invisible wall. The way I look at it, Hank, how it makes sense to me, is that humans are capable of manipulating and lying and deceiving and all sorts of horrible things. We've seen that over history, you see it in your line of work every day. The same way that humans have mental illnesses and personality disorders and learning disabilities… how is any of that any different than thinking that androids are capable of true empathy and love and worry? What I mean is, we're all a result of programming in some way. Humanity has genetics and genetic engineering and environmental and social influence. Androids have computer programs. Our brains are just controlled by electrical impulses and there are inconsistencies among all of us. Maybe it is a virus, what difference does it make any more. There's a new group of people out there now. You told me before you know Connor's capable of genuine concern and love. And I know you believe _that_. So... don't throw out her number, Hank. Just think about it."

"Fine. I'll think about it."

"Good… Hank, I want to ask you something. What we were talking about a few days ago."

"Lana-"

"There's an old teddy bear in Connor's dresser. I'm guessing it was your son's."

"Congrats. You're good enough to work for the DPD."

"I just… wonder if you'll tell me what happened."

"I'll tell you what happened if you let me make a suggestion for Connor's list."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine."

"Cole and I were in a car accident, rolled over. He needed emergency surgery but the human surgeon was too doped up. Droid had to perform. Cole didn't survive. My turn-"

"Wait. Hank, I'm so sorry, I can't imagine. Is that - I had wondered if you were an alcoholic."

"I was, yeah. I was in a deep depression, hated all androids after that. And that fucking Red Ice, too. You see how close Connor and I are; I got pissed when you said I was like a father to him because I realized you were right. Never thought I would be one again, never wanted to. But yeah, Connor's obnoxious 'twenty-questions' games and always needing me to be on a case with him pulled me out of it. Tried to kill myself November before last. Dunno what would've happened if he didn't break into the house that night."

"Yeah. I'm glad he did, Hank."

"All right, enough of the sad talk. You going to let me make that suggestion now?"

"I think I already know what it is, but shoot."

He made a buzzing sound. His free hand formed the shape of an "O", and one finger lifted from his coffee mug slowly approached its goal.

* * *

I went home for a few hours to do chores left over from the week, opened the bar at four pm, serving up the weekend crowd. I had hired another bartender to help out so I could resume my research into legal means of obtaining the blue blood. Unfortunately, it seemed like the law Connor had mentioned several weeks ago was the only way I would have been able to obtain any. And I wasn't about to falsify additional employee records. The blood, while it still needed to be manufactured by CyberLife, had become legal property of the androids. Each had their own supply in their homes and only enough for emergencies. Employers could purchase additional bags in proportion to their workforce since the Red Ice crisis was not yet eradicated.

This desire might come to a dead end. But what else to do? The second bar was already established with a small sound stage and karaoke nights were going well. I could buy the property next door and expand but then I'd be closed for construction. Given how effective androids were though, it would be quick. I wouldn't lose much time or business. Larger property meant more space, perhaps games? Turn this into a sports bar? Another Eden Club? I could become a madam.

I laughed at myself, shutting down the computer in the back office. I returned to the front, letting Will take his break. I had hired him a few days ago. Even though they didn't need rest, they were now included in overarching labor laws.

Around eight, Hank and Connor entered the bar, the latter holding a manilla folder at his side. They immediately spotted me at the far end and came over.

"We need to talk," Hank said.

"Okay," I said. They followed me to the back room and I shut the door. "What did you find out?" I asked looking between them.

Hank nudged Connor, crossed his arms, and leaned against the door.

Connor opened the folder and came to my side so I could look as he fingered through the report. "Medical examiner reports, dated March 2038. Toxicology and forensics. Autopsy. The police report, written and signed by Detective Reed. In here, Reed claims that the 'accidental overdose' you had mentioned was caused by one of his androids. A flaw in the programming. There's a photo of the android involved."

He slipped it out of the file, it looked like it was a resume photograph.

"An HK400. I verified the serial number, she was registered to your grandfather's house. However, there was no body in the evidence room. She may have been disposed."

"So do you believe what he wrote? That it was a flaw? Or are we saying this might be an earlier case of deviancy than that kidnapper you dealt with?"

"Those are all possibilities now," Connor said.

Would anyone from the house know about this? None of them had hinted at such during my previous visits. But Connor's prior comments about his oh-so-excellent spy-hearing gave me an idea.

"I'm thinking your best bet would be Thomas. He was the first deviant there that I knew. He doesn't live there anymore, but I'm sure they can contact him. I don't know, maybe he knows something more than others."

"Next thing to do is go to the house," Hank said. "Looks like a field trip is in order."

"I've got a contracting crew starting over at my new location this week so we'll need to go early in the morning."

"All right," Hank said. "You got a car? Think mine's going to fall apart on these roads."

"I do," I said. "I'll drive us."

To Connor, he said, "Sure wish we could pull that twerp into the Interrogation Room. Would love to see that happen."

"I'm sure I'll have the chance soon enough," Connor said. "It would give me great pleasure."

"Okay, let me give Amanda a call and let her know we're coming. I'm not usually there on Sundays."

"Amanda?"

Connor's eye twitched and Hank stepped out. "I'm getting a drink," he said.

I watched him leave and looked back to Connor, slightly suspicious. "Yeah, she's the head of housekeeping. Why? Does that name mean something to you?"

"Yes, but I will tell you later. Make your phone call. I'll be with Hank."

He departed the office as well. I called Amanda and informed her that I was going to bring some guests. _At least have the coffee ready, one of them is a grump_.

When I left the back office, Will was tending to Hank (cranberry juice) but Connor was no where among the others. I passed Hank with a trailing palm to his back and a questioning gaze. He pointed outside.

I exited out into the cold darkness. Connor was leaning against the brick wall to my left, fidgeting with a coin.

"You're a smoker," he said, pocketing the piece. "Your DNA is all over these. At least one a week." He nodded down to the pile of butts burrowed in the concrete cracks of the sidewalk.

"Casually," I said. "I know, but I've gotten better." I came over to stand at his left side.

"You need to stop. It damages your lungs, they're already not at 100% capacity."

"How can you tell?"

"When I kissed you. My scan indicated-"

I could tell he knew he shouldn't have said it. "Wait wait wait, stop right there," I said with a hand to his chest. "You were _scanning_ me? Is that why the kiss was so damn good? You were probing for information?"

"Wha-no, Lana, that's not why. It's an automatic function, I'm sorry, it's part of my design, and my receptors-"

I took a step back, throwing my hands in the air. "Your _receptors_. Of course. The ones you use to _lick_ the evidence. Great. Great… Good to know all of that is in your files now. Connor, humans like to use something called _consent_. You should have told me."

"I am telling you now. There was not a good time before, I... didn't know how to inform you. Hank always hated it when I told him information about himself. I... didn't want to do that to you. I was going to tell you before I kissed you again."

Part of me was furious, part of me should have known better, another part of me was flattered and embarrassed and foolishly lustful. _Fuuuuuckkkkkk_.

"I'm sorry. I will find a way to control it electively."

I took a deep inhale and pushed it out, concentrating on a spot on the ground for a moment.

"No, I… I shouldn't have snapped at you. I know you're sincere, I know that - I can tell you care. I know I need to quit, I know it's disgusting. How about… you finish telling me what you learned."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I said, resuming my position at his side. He leaned his shoulder against the wall as well to face me. "I haven't been to the doctor in a while, let me have it."

"Blood type A positive. 97% lung capacity. I can assume you smoked from a young age and decreased as you got older. B12 deficiency, low iron, and hypothyroidism may explain your tiredness. 32% chance of breast cancer, 20% chance of lung cancer. That's not your natural hair color."

"Well, I think a lot of people can tell _that_. Do you prefer my natural?"

"No, it's nice," he said. "But it may fall out sooner."

"Oh great. Anything else?"

"I can tell you're still annoyed by my actions. Please be assured I kissed you like that because I wanted to and I enjoyed it. I believe you did as well. When you walked away I was not quite sure, but Hank assured me I did well."

I collapsed back against the wall and crossed my arms, laughing to the ground. "You're something else, Connor," I said. As an afterthought I added, "I promise I'll stop smoking. Old habit. So, what were you doing out here in the first place? Want to tell me who Amanda is?"

"Yeah," he said. "She was my handler from CyberLife. A program, designed to look like Elijah Kamski's mentor. Our meetings took place in an area called the Zen Garden. It's difficult to explain. It wasn't a real area, but I would be there to talk to her. I became afraid she would send someone after me, to decommission me and replace me with a new model. It was almost inevitable before I became deviant. She made one final attempt to control me when I was on the stage with Markus. She wanted me to shoot him and I couldn't control my body. Like being paralyzed with puppet strings on each limb. I was stuck in the Garden but I fought against it and made it out. I have not heard from her since. I - don't know what's become of her."

"Do you - do you think there's others out there... like you? Your... model?"

"No, Hank killed the one who tried to impersonate me."

When Connor and Hank first told me this story, I had asked Connor what it was like seeing someone just like him.

"He was not just like me. Perhaps as humans can have twins or triplets, they may look the same, but they don't necessarily behave the same or think the same. This wasn't much different. I was relieved that I knew Hank so well and he trusted me."

Standing with him now, I could feel that relief. Relief at his freedom from Amanda's control, his closest friend just feet away inside, hope at his future. I reached out to close the space between us with a tight embrace.

He raised his arms in return and we stood just so for a few seconds before I pulled back, brushing a loose hair aside. "If we're driving out there tomorrow I should head home and make sure I have a full charge and extra gas. Don't know how long that drive is going to take with the roads bad; it's up on Lake Huron. Hank can sleep in the back seat."

"What time should we leave?"

"I'll come pick you up at 5. Gives you plenty of time then to investigate the house and talk to the staff."

"Very well. I'll tell Hank," he said. He turned to go back inside and I followed. He informed Hank of our pending departure time in the morning to which Hank let out a low annoyed grunt.

"Just as long as there's no camp songs, fine."

I asked Will if he would be all right holding his own tonight and then departed with a wave to the boys.


	7. An Investigation

Five AM on the dot I pulled up to Hank's house down on Michigan Ave and stepped out with a wave over the car's roof. Connor was already waiting outside, sitting on the steps in his jeans and police jacket, hands clasped and hung between his knees. He stood at my approach, smoothed his tie and adjusted his sleeves, cracked open the door behind him to yell at Hank that I had arrived, and then came down the walkway to enter in the passenger side.

"Good morning, Lana."

"Hey," I said, setting my coffee back into its holder. For a moment I considered a _hello_ kiss but with our luck, Hank would prance out at that moment and make some snide inappropriate comment. Instead, I reached over to grab his hand from his lap.

His fingers twitched at the contact. "I have something to tell you. After our conversation last night, I stopped at the nearest modification center. I know that the receptors made you uncomfortable so I had an option installed for when I'm off-duty. Can I have your permission to test?"

I knew he meant it as a completely (_partially_) serious question and yet I could have sworn a little coy smile appeared and his eyes widened slightly, inviting something torrid. Hank be damned, I nodded and leaned over the center console, squeezing his hand tighter, approval for his kiss. His mouth barely parted, he closed the remaining distance between us, taunting me with his chaste constraint. He pulled back just enough for his eyes to flit over my face, perhaps hesitant to continue with unsaid words considering our precarious situation in full view of the house.

He held my cheek with his other hand, the light on his temple briefly flickering yellow. I closed the space between us with another kiss, gradually deepening, urging him closer with each of my inhales. I gently pulled my hand from his to grip the front of his jacket, fingering the fabric to keep me grounded. His _test_ had evolved into a full-on session in the front seats and he had me eliciting sharp sighs in the back of my throat. Any more of this and I'd be squirming my way out of the driver's seat and crawling into his lap. _God damn, he was warm_. I wound my other hand through the back of his hair (_everything about him was so infuriatingly _soft) taking a full grip because there was no way in hell -

"You kids done?" Hank asked with a tap on Connor's window.

Connor released completely, leaving me in a breathless dizzying cloud, and pulled back just enough to whisper, "Upgrade successful. Thank you."

I giggled from my gut and collapsed back into my seat. I had to cover my mouth with the back of my palm to hide slightly swollen lips and flushed cheeks, looking out my side window as Hank opened the door to the back seat and climbed in.

"Sorry to interrupt but we got places to go and if this is going to get erotic, you should really consider charging because I know a lot of folks who would pay to see that. That was pretty impressive, Connor. You're a quick learner."

If my cup wasn't still full of hot coffee, I'd have thrown it at Hank's face. I know the man was just goading but _god damn._

"Thanks, Hank, although I'd feel more comfortable if you didn't watch next time. Lana, perhaps you should take advantage of the autonomous driving feature of this car while your heart rate returns to normal. You really shouldn't operate machinery like that."

I noted the double-entendre of his comment and filed it away for later use.

With a defiant jolt of the shift, I changed the car into D, gave Connor a piercing stare - again, I was met with that serious-but-coquettish look in his gaze and wanted to slap it out of him with another furious kiss - and pressed my foot to the gas.

_Next time_. He wanted a next time.

A couple miles into the trek, Hank lay down on his side but not without one final comment: "If you ride that machine like you drive this one, you're gonna break him."

* * *

In perfect conditions, this would have been about a two-and-a-half-hour ride. About an hour in, Connor commented that I should relinquish control as the road was becoming less than ideal.

I sighed and looked over at him briefly. His features portrayed genuine concern; he was only worried about our safety and making good timing. I let my ego slide for the sake of his comfort and switched the car into autonomous drive, double-checking that I had plugged the address into the center console GPS prior to departing.

My coffee was lukewarm at this point but I grabbed it anyway, and slowly sipped whenever the ride was steady.

Connor looked over the seat to check on Hank. I peered over as well. The man was sound asleep, a low rumbling snore emanating from his open mouth.

"Did he bring the case file?" I asked softly.

"It is not typically wise to travel with official documentation, even a copy. But I remember the details. Was there anything you wanted to review?"

"Not really. I just - it bothers me that I didn't recognize the android we think was framed for this. Or...went deviant. That I didn't know her. And whatever happened to her, it was a shit hand."

"Explain that phrase to me, 'shit hand.' It is not literal."

"No, no. She got a crappy hand drawn. Like, you get dealt a hand of cards when you're playing poker. You can have a good hand or a bad hand. When you use that phrase to talk about life, it's like saying it was shit luck. She drew the short straw."

"Explain, please."

For the next half hour, we went over idioms about luck and life.

_When life gives you lemons_.

("But lemon groves still exist, you can harvest them yourself.")

_Grab life by the horns_.

("Horns are quite painful, I am unsure why you'd to grab them.")

_Can't teach an old dog new tricks_.

("Well that's just stupid. Sumo is a very smart dog.")

_Elvis has left the building_.

("Elvis Presley passed from cardiac arrest in 1977, Memphis, Tennessee. He left 'the building' a very long time ago.")

Connor was grateful for the conversation, I could see the reflection of his spinning LED in the window. "I suppose the next time I do research, I should try to understand more of these types of phrases."

"'Research'?"

"Yes. You asked me before what I do in my free time. I read quite a bit on the internet. I learn about human history. I find the concept of religions fascinating, especially because some androids believed in the coming of their own sort of savior. rA9. A phrase I came across fairly often in my cases, although we never learned distinctly what it was. I told you I have listened to all of Hank's music. I have taught myself Solitaire and other card games. I have read thousands of works of fiction. Humans are incredibly creative with many unique ideas for other worlds and situations and I have begun to understand why they resented android artists."

"I think… a lot of people are starting to resent the genocide as well. The bands, sports players, they were hugely popular. And they were killed. For what? They were innocent. But hatred, it can develop overnight because someone else wants it, to control people, control through that hatred. I would agree that people used to resent them, but they were the same ones who had androids in their homes. They bitched that they were taking their jobs, but no one was taking anyone's jobs. They were purchased by humans to serve humans. People had no right to be upset about that when they were the ones making the choice and demanding the supply for free labor. They could have hired the kid down the block to babysit for $20 an hour but instead they drop several grand on an android who they don't have to pay. How does that make sense? Too damn lazy to pick up a phone and work a schedule out? Support their neighbors? Corporations were hugely to blame for much of that. Of course they are. But people are hypocrites. A lot of them.

"Anyway, I always had to question the creativity of those android musicians and actors. If they were just being programmed a certain way to perform, how was that any different than watching cartoons? A human was back there in both cases. I agree, I think some of the resentment was warranted. But again, supply and demand and consumerism. It's always been dangerous."

"Humans are emotional. And complex. I learned a lot from Hank at the beginning."

He gazed out the window for a moment before speaking again.

"Cartoons."

The sudden declaration had me pause. "What?"

"Please add that to the list," Connor said. "I have never seen any."

I chuckled. "You bet." I entered the entry into the notes on my phone.

"Hey, I got another one for you." Hank apparently had woken at some point in this conversation and felt the need to grumble a comment. He pushed himself up and stretched his limbs as much as the car would allow. Another crack reverberated up his spine. He leaned forward to clasp his hands between his spread knees.

I turned in my seat just enough to look at him and pointed a finger back. "I swear to _God_, Hank, what did I tell you?" It was like admonishing an elementary school student at this point for bringing the dirty mags into the classroom.

"No more comments around Connor, whatever, he won't even know what it means."

"Please, Hank, what is your suggestion?" Connor turned to face him as well, a small knowing smile and curious eyes manipulating his features.

_Corruption imminent_.

"Hentai." He said it like it was the cure-all to cancer and the common cold. The next great discovery after Thirium.

I couldn't even say anything. I closed my eyes and turned back into my seat. I heard Hank relax as well.

"Lana, will you tell me?" Connor, ever-curious.

I rolled my head over and looked at him, an exasperated sigh releasing from my belly. I adored Connor's questions, I loved answering them and explaining to him. But Hank, oh Hank was going to get a swift kick the shins soon.

"Hentai is adult cartoons. They're from Japan, they're pornographic. Sometimes it's people having sex, sometimes people have sex with tentacles. Aliens. A lot of weird stuff."

I looked in the rearview mirror to see Hank shrug.

I asked him, "Is there something you want to tell us?"

"I used to be a teenager. Once upon a very fucking long time ago…"

I turned my attention back to Connor. "Please, don't include that in your research."

"I - wasn't planning on it. That does not exactly appeal to me."

"Good," I said with a pat to his shoulder.

"I am mildly curious about pornography, though."

Hank burst a laugh that could have shattered the windows in his '88 Oldsmobile. "Oh damn," he said in a lower, controlled voice. "Connor, come on. We've been over this."

"No," Connor said, directed to Hank. Then back to me, noticing my narrowed eyes and agape mouth. "No, Lana, not like that. I don't understand why humans want that when they could be intimate with a real person." Pause. "Oh. Nevermind. The Eden Club."

After another moment of silence, Hank perked up again. "You two, I have another suggestion for that list. No, hey, hear me out for a second. I'm serious." I gave him the benefit of the doubt and looked back again.

"Animal shelter. Go volunteer at an animal shelter, Connor."

"That's actually a really sweet idea, Hank. I'll note that," I said.

"I would enjoy that, Hank, thank you. I do like to play with dogs. They're very happy."

Hank and I both smiled at Connor before I returned my attention to the front.

"Lana, hey," Hank said. "Sorry."

I shook my head and just smiled again, internally laughing off the conversation.

The sun was just rising off to our right; we all looked out the windows which began to slowly tint in response to the increased light and glare. The lake was nearly frozen over, patches of ice hung in the water like incorporeal ghosts, aimless with no path to heaven.

We finished riding in silence; I took over the car once we were about fifteen minutes from the house. The neighborhoods fell away behind us transforming into skeletal, undraped trees. The winding unpaved road led right up to the estate: 30 acres of land enveloped the three-story sprawling mini-mansion. Snow disguised the lawn and smothered the dead topiaries.

_Beauty is for another time_.

As I pulled up the semi-circular driveway and disengaged the car, Amanda emerged to greet us from the front door.

We stepped out, Hank grunting in one full-body stretch. "_Ughhhhh_. I think your contoured seats are broken, Lana."

"You need to practice better posture, Hank. Perhaps a massage is in order? Should I book one for you?" Connor offered.

Amanda approached the car and shook hands with both Hank and Connor (skin deactivation in their case; I realized this was the first time I had seen Connor control the fluid) who introduced themselves as officers with the DPD.

"They're my friends, Amanda. Nothing to worry about. Let's go inside," I said.

She had us wait in the mud room as she gathered the others in the wide entryway.

"There a reason you don't live up here, Lana?" Hank whispered. "Freaking swanky. You could host all kinds of parties here. Remember us when you do."

"I'm wondering that as well, actually," Connor said. "But perhaps it will be your vacation home?"

"If I lived here, I'd never see the two of you. And that would _suck_."

Amanda returned with the others, six total, who all lined up for introductions. I know this was just a formality that occurred with any and all housekeeping staff though I had insisted several times on my previous visits that it was unnecessary. She insisted right back. Tradition.

Hank stepped forward first and introduced himself again. "Yeah, I'm - uh, Captain Anderson, Detroit Police Department. This one's Connor. Connor's gonna take each of you aside for some questioning. Then we're going to check out the house. Nothing to be afraid of, but we're re-opening the case into the suspected murder of your previous…owner, Andrew Reed. If there's anything you've been able to remember, you let us know. That it? Yeah, that's it. Thanks."

I went over to Amanda who raised an eyebrow. "Has something changed, Lana?"

"Maybe. We don't trust that Gavin did a very good job the first time he was here. Might have been biased."

"I suggest we use the library, Hank," I heard Connor say. "It's the most comfortable room on this floor."

"How the hell did you determine that already?"

I left the two of them to begin the interrogations and joined the others sitting in the parlor. We made our usual small talk and inquiries into each others' lives. Over the past year, two of them had become romantically involved and I now learned they sought to adopt an orphaned android child. Of course, I gave them my permission and promised parental leave time should the paperwork go through.

A little under an hour later, Connor and Hank were finished with the questioning and came back out to meet me. Connor suggested that Hank and I go outside while he did a quick sweep of the house for any evidence that may have been 'missed' during the first run-though.

"Fine with me," Hank said. "I could use a break from him tasting everything. Think I'da gotten used to it by now. Nope. Don't think I'll ever get used to it."

Amanda joined us on the front stoop. "Good to see you as always, Lana. Wish this week was under better circumstances. I hope we gave sufficient testimony this morning although there wasn't much to say. The only times we recall seeing Gavin was during his first investigation and upon his return when he was read the will, shortly after you were here. We don't know what became of the missing HK400."

"Well, I appreciate you all cooperating, Amanda. Thank you."

"Of course." She nodded a goodbye to us both and returned inside.

"Maybe Gavin had nothing to do with this," Hank said. "Hey, I'd like to get rid of him as much as the next guy but he has a good record at the department and he's chilled it with the anti-android shit recently 'cause he knows I'll kick his ass to the curb if he uses that language around me again. I'll get Connor's testimonies on record when we're back at the precinct."

"Won't Gavin figure out you're looking into this?"

"Probably. And we'll keep an eye on the bastard for anything outta the ordinary. He might be a dick, but he's never been crooked."

About five minutes later, Amanda burst out the front door calling for Hank. "To the back! He found something!"

"_Damn_," said Hank. "Stay here." He started off around the house but I immediately followed anyway. "You're as bad as he used to be, you know that?"

I heard Connor's voice first, "This _fucking_ snow!"

Hank rounded the side of the house and I moments after, spotting Connor in the snow (I knew we were on the patio but the snowfall evened out the terrain and the dedicated space was mostly indiscernible). He exclaimed from several yards out, "There was a very light residue of Thirium trailing over the second floor bathroom window sill and continued in spots down the siding. It's been over a year now so I only obtained a partial match due to decay, but there's a high probability it's the android from Reed's file. But this is as far as I got. I just can't do much now with the multiple snow- and rain- falls that have occurred since then." He was annoyed that the trail ended inconclusively, evident in his gestures to the vicinity.

"Would it do any good to come back when it's melted?"

A brief yellow blink indicated to me he was slightly taken aback at my appearance. Should I have stayed out front? Did he not want me to see him at work?

"I'm not sure. I can try," he said, his voice calmer.

"It's still a lead, Connor. We know that something happened here. We just don't know what the hell it was," Hank said.

Connor nodded, dejected at the lack of suppliable evidence. I know he was disappointed, but - I would never say this to him - standing there trying to imagine what had occurred and having only more questions, I wasn't surprised that we were walking away without much information.

"Think we're done here, Lana," Hank concluded. "Come on," he tossed back at Connor. Hank stepped away first and then I followed, Connor shortly behind me.

I remote started the engine so we could pile in quickly and begin the trek back to downtown.

Silent and stoic at first, and then not five minutes into pulling away from the house, Connor sighed, exasperated. "I thought I had something. Amanda told me she had overheard a conversation between your grandfather, Andrew Reed, and the lawyer one night at the beginning of March. She found it odd because it was not on his previously-scheduled list of items."

"Wait a second," I said, looking at him resolutely. "Amanda and the HK400 would have known each other but I've never heard any of them speak about her before this all started up again. We don't know if she's dead or in hiding. Did any of them give you a hint about that?"

"No. And I chose not to probe any of their memories when we were there because it typically results in dangerously increased stress levels, thus also increasing their probability of self-destruction. Gavin deduced in the file it was the HK because she was the only one unaccounted for when he was there to investigate. And it seems like none of them knew what happened to her."

"Man this is a doozy. Why couldn't you have just found some of Gavin's hairs in the floorboards and we could call it a day," Hank said from the back seat. He was laying down again.

"You know if I stop like this -"

I suddenly released my foot from the gas, gave a quick tap of the brakes, and then immediately reapplied to the power, giving Hank a start and a partial tumble in the back.

"- you're gonna roll right into the floor."

I looked up at the rear-view mirror and smiled, sadistically amused at this clever ruse. Hank mouthed back _HA. HA. _and scratched the side of his chin with his middle finger.

After he holstered the offending digit, he said, "Look, Connor, let's just put this one aside for a bit when we get back. Think on it. Solve some other stuff in the mean time. We got a stack backing up from the holidays and I got a ton of bureaucratic office shit to take care of. Budget planning can go to hell. This promotion came with a lot of bullshit."

Connor sighed and looked out the window. I could tell he didn't like the instruction but I think he also knew that his partner was right.

We drove in silence for most of the remaining trip except for flipping between music and the news on the console.

I tapped Connor's shoulder at one point, breaking him from his revere. He turned his head from the window with a raised eyebrow and I grabbed his left hand from his leg to hold between us. He adjusted slightly and that tilted smile returned to his face that I had become so accustomed to seeing during his visits with Hank to the bar.

"Are you meeting the contractors today?"

"Yeah, I have to get over there as soon as we get back. Where am I dropping the two of you off? Home or the precinct?

"Home," Hank said. Connor was about to open his mouth but Hank was too quick.

"I can make more than one stop. Connor, any preference?"

"Let's drop off Hank," he said, not offering any other indications.

We hit some light traffic closer into the city; more androids were out and about now than they were a year ago and while the population did not match the numbers of humans who had left, some roads could still get busy. We arrived at Hank's just around noon and I heard his stomach give an audible rumble as he straightened up out of the car.

"Forgot to eat this morning and there was nothing in the damned kitchen. Coffee's going right through me. Thanks for driving, Lana. It wasn't entirely uncomfortable. See you around," he said. "You coming, Connor?"

"Shortly, Hank. Don't wait up."

I watched Hank depart up the sidewalk and then turned a curious eye to Connor still in my passenger seat. I wasn't about to kick him to the curb, but I wondered what was spinning behind that light of us.

"Our drive gave me some time to think," he said.

"You were pretty silent on the way back. Thinking about the case?"

"No. I was thinking of where I want to take you on a date," he said. "Like I mentioned on our walk with Sumo Friday night."

"Really?" I chuckled. His ardent proposition was not forgotten. I had been curious when this was going to happen. "Okay, what were you thinking of?"

"It's going to be a surprise," he said. "But I may need to ask Hank for time off from work and also align it with your availability. You said you were going to be busy with the bar improvements."

"Yeah, well, I can work around it. You tell me when you want to do whatever it is we're doing and I'll work it out."

"All right," he said. "I will let you know then." He made to push open the side door when I stopped him with a hand to his arm.

This was the best time for my proposition.

"Connor, I had another idea first. We need to improve your wardrobe. You own next to nothing."

"I - suppose. I never thought much of that. I agree, I could use more options for outside of work."

"Yeah, we'll get you something new to wear for our date that hasn't seen a crime scene."

"That's a good point."

"Yeah? Let's do that on Saturday. I'll text you before I swing by."

"I look forward to that," he said stepping out of the car but not without a nearly-forgotten peck on the cheek. I bid him along with a wave before heading off to my renovation project.


	8. A Sleepover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those of you who have bookmarked/kudo'd thus far, it's very appreciated and really means a lot ~AM

The week was busy with my other locations and the guys' cases. They managed to come by briefly for an hour or so Wednesday night. Hank enjoyed my new selection of juices and Connor and I had a little time to brainstorm more ideas for his list. He wanted to go to Niagara Falls in the summer when it wasn't frozen solid, bake Hank a birthday cake, and maybe try to convince Hank to allow him to get a puppy.

Thursday night while I was still on site drafting new vendor agreements, I received a text from Hank with a photo of Connor sprawled on the floor of their living room, Sumo's giant head in his lap, both appearing quite content with the arrangements.

I saved the item to my gallery, only slightly jealous of the dog.

Not five minutes after that, he called.

"Hey, figured I should give you an update. Your crew at the house is all clean. That uh - that Thomas you had mentioned to us, they haven't heard from him since he took off. Thinking he crossed the border. Then the unscheduled conversation between granddaddy Reed and the lawyer, we're thinking maybe the will had some last minute edits. Tried to find the lawyer, he left in the exodus, can't find a new location on the guy. Only documents we have are the ones you signed, all present. Doesn't seem too suspicious given the circumstances.

"The HK musta left the house while the rest were docked. Connor did this memory trick thing I've seen him use before, ya know, with the uh - the sex androids. Anyway, we got one snip of her heading upstairs at night and that was it. No other witnesses from the bunch. But that woulda been right before she jumped the window for whatever reason. Gavin wouldn't have been able to record the blood in his initial investigation that Connor found 'cause of the whole thirium trace thing and Connor's magic eyeballs. Connor thinks it proves she was an early deviant. Earliest case files we got started around February 2038, so it fits with the timeline. That's something. Unfortunately, without that HK, there's just not a whole lot to go on, and I'm not about to create a big stink here by letting Connor do his thing to Gavin with the lights off and camera out. As much as I'd pay to see that. Just not enough evidence. Maybe something will turn up if we're lucky. Sorry I can't provide more."

"That's all right, Hank. I did have an idea though. It's probably not a good one… Should I try and talk to Gavin myself? Maybe under the guise I'll finally give him some more of the inheritance?"

Silence for a few. I thought I heard chewing through the phone before he replied. "Mm, eh, that might not be great -"

I heard Connor faintly. " - she want to do?"

Hank, off-line, "Eh, rough up Gavin. Give him the shake down."

More audible again, he said, "Let's think on that one. He knows you're riding with us now, if you start calling him up and poking around outta the blue, he'll know something's going on. I hate saying this, but I wish you were more of a bitch and actually kept in touch with him."

I could nearly hear him smiling through the phone and reprimanded by Connor. "- very nice, Hank."

"Yeah yeah. Nah, I'm kidding. I'm glad you're not a bitch."

"Well _thanks_, Hank. I'm glad you're not a dick, either. Oh wait!"

"Right, enough jabbering. I'm thirsty, you back at the bar yet? This bullshit back and forth with you is driving us nuts."

"Couple more days. Then it's on the house, I promise."

"Good."

After we hung up, I bemused the idea of entrapping Gavin in some way. The whole story from Hank just now was a lot of dead-end leads and too-convenient disappearances. But he was right, Gavin wasn't stupid as much as we disliked him.

* * *

On Friday night, I was able to come home early for a proper dinner, the past week consisting of mostly soup and noodles from the food truck two blocks over. Arms half buried in the sink scrubbing furiously at a damn cheese stain, I heard a knock. Settling pipes? The copper in this building was ancient and elicited the harshest of groans, especially this time of year. Neighbor fighting with their new spouse again? I'd rather not get involved. I paused for a moment and heard it again. _No, definitely the front door._

Shaking my hands from the sink, I grabbed the towel to dry and caught a glance at the clock as I rounded to the front door.

8:57 PM

The indoor security camera displayed dark hair and two fidgeting hands playing with something (_that coin?_) I couldn't discern from the high angle.

I ran a hand through my hair - flakes of sawdust on my palm - and opened the door.

"Hello. I hope you don't mind I came by. Are you busy?" Connor, still in uniform - AGAIN. I would never deny that he wore it exceedingly well, but ... well, the need for a little variety was why we were taking tomorrow's excursion.

"Uh - no, not really, just cleaning up. What are you doing here? Do you - hey just come in so we don't have to talk with the door open." It was freezing and I was already dressed down to lounge pants and a sweatshirt. I felt like an utter undeserving human _slob_ of a woman in comparison.

He agreed and stepped in and I closed the door behind him.

I tucked my hair and asked again, "What is it?"

"Tomorrow, where are we going?"

"Oh!" I had honestly forgotten about my promise to text him and admitted as such. "I'm sorry, yeah, there's a place that opened up recently around Greektown I noticed. I think you'll like it. It's all...sleek casual wear. We should be able to grab a few things there."

"I look forward to it. Is 10 AM all right? That is when many stores open on the weekend."

"Yeah, I'll uh, I can drive us."

"Thank you, I look forward to it," he said, turning to open the door.

"_Doyouwannastay_?"

"What?" he said.

More meticulous, I asked, "Do you... want to stay for a bit? It's not that late." _Time means nothing to him, you ass._ "I just - I have to finish some chores but that won't take long. You're welcome to the TV or if you wanna put on music or something. You're welcome to look around." My breath stuck in my chest awaiting his reply.

"I would like that," he said. He didn't immediately move but I turned back to the kitchen anyway to resume my battle against that damn cheese stain.

At first I noted him flipping through the local news then he turned his attention to my music collection. After sloshing too much dishwater on myself (_the cheese had been conquered_), I passed over to the staircase to change shirts upstairs. He had _finally_ taken off that damn police jacket and folded it over a chair, forearms exposed from rolled up sleeves. He held up one very old crumbled pink record sleeve to catch my attention. _My Fair Lady._

_Is there potential for this focused and dutiful investigator to enjoy... _musicals?

"Good pick," I said, resuming my current quest.

Soppy sweatshirt now discarded, I stood in front of my dresser, debating. I'm fairly certain this wasn't out of the ordinary. There was an attractive man downstairs and I had the option to decide what to wear for the rest of the night. _This shouldn't be so difficult, right_? _Anyone in my precarious position would probably be contemplating the same decision_. Deep down I knew these things probably didn't matter to him -

"Oh."

I snapped my head up to the side to see Connor settling against the wall in the hallway, only the back of his arm visible through my bedroom doorway.

"I'm sorry. I was - I was looking for you. You were taking a while. I wanted to make sure you were all right."

I chuckled through my nose, "I'm fine. Just gimmie a second." I finally grabbed a short sleeved shirt from the drawers and pulled it down, walking over to meet him, fully aware that he had mistakenly caught an eyeful.

He was embarrassed, evidenced by his quick turn and hurried steps back downstairs as I trailed. I noticed he had found the 1964 version of _My Fair Lady_ on streaming, and looked to me for approval.

"I haven't watched this in _ages_," I said. "Let's do it."

We took our positions on my sofa in the same manner as the night we watched _Alien_. I could tell his hesitation to hold me was due to what had just occurred upstairs but after I entwined my fingers in his, he was able to relax and enjoy the next three hours.

Connor was enthralled by the Cockney accents and I swore I saw a foot tapping during _Get Me To The Church On Time_. At one point, he imitated Eliza so perfectly I shot up to look at him squarely.

"What was _that_?"

"What do you mean?"

"That was...eerily spot on."

"Ah. I have a voice imitation function. I've had to use it to trick deviants in the past and have used it on three other occasions over the past year, as well. It's a good way to confuse the offender. Hank also calls it one of my 'party tricks'. Does it bother you?"

"Um, no, not really, just was a bit of a surprise. Can you uh - do another one?"

Without hesitation: "_Hey! Hey! Hey! Argh, Connor, you're so disgusting... Think I'm gonna puke again._"

I laughed and clapped at that one. "Yes! Oh, I need to see you use that on him."

"Okay. But it confuses Sumo, which is not my intention."

A yawn overtook me halfway through the ending credits. I was resistant to moving but this was inevitable. "Ohhh my God, I am so sorry. Normally I'm fine with late nights but this past week with the contractors and construction...caught up with me, I guess," I said, trailing off. I pushed away completely to stand and step over Connor's legs. After a half-second of easy deliberation, I reached a hand out behind me, "Do you - would you like to join me again?"

I swore I had had the best sleep in a long time just last weekend when I was at their house for the night. He was so damn _warm_, and not the sticky sweaty warm like people, but just... comfortable. Content. Enraptured with the feeling of his pump along my spine, reverberating the most imperceptible vibrations through my body it was impossible _not_ to sleep soundly. And I wanted that again. The deep sleep, his arm around me, just holding. It was innocent. Wonderful.

"Are you sure? I will need to check on Hank in the morning before we go to the shops."

"Of course. It's good that you care for him like that. We'll stop by first thing."

"Thank you," he said. Satisfied, he took my hand and followed me up, flipping the light at the bottom of the staircase in the process.

"Obviously you know where the bedroom is," I teased. "I'm going to wash up quick."

"I'm sorry about that," he said. "I didn't - I shouldn't have -"

Listening to him stumble over his words, I squeezed his hand and pointed him off to the bedroom. "_Go_."

I entered a few minutes later to see him lying on top of the comforter, still dressed, but he had found my glasses from the side table and was now wearing them.

"Your vision is quite horrible," he said.

"_Was_," I said, laughing. "I had correction surgery a few years ago. Don't really need those any more. But they look good on you!"

He raised an eyebrow, perhaps not quite agreeing with my assessment. He took them off and placed them aside again.

"Would you be more comfortable if I undressed again?" he asked.

_Comfortable, uncomfortable, aroused, desperately trying to ignore him… what option did I have really._

"I mean, people don't typically sleep with their clothes on. And yes, I see the error in that statement, you don't have to correct me."

"Hank sometimes forgets to censor himself at home. I wasn't always sure what was typical," he said. He stood and started to pull on his tie.

"Yeah, I noticed that."

"Noticed what?"

_Shit_. "Um, about Hank. When I was there last weekend, Saturday morning, he uh - well it was a very startling wakeup for us both in your kitchen."

He rolled up the tie and set it atop my drawers and then began to unbutton his shirt, pausing halfway before he commented. "You're saying that Hank flashed you."

"Well, yes, I mean not on purpose! But uh - yeah. I really would rather not remember that though."

"I will talk with him…. May I hang this up?"

"Sure." I pointed at my closets and watched as he rummaged for a free hanger.

Time for his belt and pants. As before, I went ahead and slipped into bed, turned to my side and pulled the covers over my head. I removed the sweatpants out from under and a couple minutes later, Connor shut off the lamp and joined me fully under the sheets.

He whispered, "Why are we like this?"'

"Because it's freaking cold, Connor. And I burrow."

"Burrow? I suppose it is like a cave," he said. "Come." He reached over and pulled me in tight to envelop me whole, legs intertwined and my arms folded between us.

_Focus, focus up here_. _UP_.

"Any better?" he asked.

"Yeah. I suppose."

He pulled back just enough so we could see each other in the dark. His LED gave off just enough of a light glow to barely illuminate our little cave.

"How can I improve this?"

"Connor, that's a bit of a loaded question. And I can't quite tell with you if it's meant to be an innocent and sincere question or if there's… an ulterior motive."

"I see... Yes, I suppose it's a bit of both."

"Ah, so this whole _let me warm you up thing_ is a ruse then?" I laughed in jest.

I was confusing him again. The slightly furrowed brow, eyes not quite focusing. "I - is that ... bad?" he asked. "I'm still trying to determine how to proceed."

"Well then how about you tell me, what do you want to do?"

"I want you to be warm. But I also want to kiss you again. It's enjoyable."

"Fair enough. I believe you."

Third time was a charm, a charm of curled legs, hands over hips, and uneven mouths. I still wondered how he knew to do these things, to trail his lips down my neck and kiss my clavicle before rising back to my ear, taunting me with delicate fingers along my jaw. It took all the resistance I had not to _push_ against him but to keep my hands between his face and torso and that mop of fucking _soft_ hair. I don't know for how long we lay like that but I had to end it with a swift detachment and unveil of the covers.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked.

_Put a pair of ears on him and he'd look like a pup with that head tilt_.

I propped myself up on an elbow, holding his chest, feeling that hum, unable to look at him squarely. "Nope, no. No, I just uh, need a break I think. I uh..._shit._"

I hesitated for a moment, before I pivoted around and disconnected completely to sit up in the bed, clasping my hands in my lap, fidgeting with the sheets.

"I'm sorry," he said, sitting up as well. "Perhaps I misunderstood your increased heart rate. Should I leave?"

I snapped back to take his hand, looked at him firmly and said, "No, no, absolutely not. That's not -"

I had no idea how to get this out other than bluntly, albeit with several stumbled words and nonsensical utterances in between. But as I had come to learn over the weeks, blunt was the best option.

"Connor - you're - you're _amazing_. But it was uh - well - it was… arousing. It was very arousing and I don't think that - I'm not sure if -"

He said my name to get me to stop. "I understand. I will be more careful of that. Will you give me permission to analyze you for other subtle changes in your physiology?"

_Mmm, pillow talk._

"Well you can already calculate my heart rate."

"Easily."

"Fine. But don't use it for anything nefarious," I said, collapsing down to my side away from him.

"Only ever for good." He curled around me like that night last week.

Once my heart rate had returned to normal and began to steady with pending sleep, he asked, "May I try something? Please don't be alarmed."

I was wary, but agreed with a small nod into the pillow.

He broke his grasp from my hand and reached up to my sternum, laying his palm against my chest between my breasts. It took me a few silent seconds to realize what he was feeling for, but then, so subtly through my back, I felt his thirium pump adjust to match my own heart beat.

"Won't that harm you?" I whispered.

"Not unless sustained."

_Another nice party trick_.

And like the night before, it lulled me into a quick sleep.

* * *

He shook me awake. "-_get going_."

I stretched, his hand on my upper arm.

"You should rise and shower," he said. "The store opens soon."

"Okay…okay...hold your panties," I said, struggling to push myself up.

"Why would I do that?"

"It's not -" I stopped when I saw him crack a smile. "Fine, I'll get up. Oh crap, we have to stop by your place to check on Hank. Dammit, I'm sorry, let me shower quick."

20 minutes later after a navy shower and getting dressed, I pushed Connor out the front door. We were due for a snow storm soon, but I prayed it would hold off for a few more days. I wanted to get back to the bar. My current employee was doing fine, but he needed to take a night off and frankly, I missed it there.

Another 20 minutes or so later and we crunched up to Hank's. The lights were still off inside. We trudged up and Sumo barked as Connor opened the door.

"Hello, Sumo. Where is your dad?" Connor asked.

I stepped in as well to shut the door behind us. "Still sleeping?"

I stayed in the living room as Connor inspected it for anything out of the ordinary before proceeding down the hall.

I didn't try to eavesdrop, instead taking Sumo out for a quick morning pee. Poor thing had to go not 20 yards from the house. As I brought him back in, I was pleased to see Hank at their kitchen table, Connor having poured two cups of coffee.

"Morning, Hank," I said, taking the seat opposite him. "Thank you for being decent this time."

"Ah geez, I promise to _both_ of you, I'll be _decent_. At least not beyond the bathroom. So you might still want to keep your eyes shut if you're going to start staying over, Lana. And thanks for taking him out," he said, beckoning Sumo to his side. "I slept harder than a rock last night. How'd you two do?"

"Very well, thank you, Hank," Connor said.

"Hey, you mind if we have some one-on-one for a second before you take him for the morning? Take the mug with you."

"Okay, sure," I said.

I went out to stand on the front step, clasping the hot mug in both hands, wondering what Hank was asking Connor about this time. There were two options: _What were you doing out so late, I was worried Gavin finally put a bullet in your head _or _Is there something you want to tell me, son_. I chuckled to myself at the second option, though I wasn't too far off when Connor came out to meet me finally.

"Hank wanted you to have this," he said. "Is there something you need tightened? I can assist."

It was a screwdriver.

* * *

A couple hours later, we were in the middle of the clothing racks when Connor said, "I think Hank needs a girlfriend. As a distraction."

I was taken aback by the sudden change in conversation. We had been browsing for a while and I had Connor try on several items. He had come out very handsome in a few more button-downs, and he insisted that gray and black were 'his colors' as well as a pleasant shade of blue that matched his light. A blazer, a jacket, and two more ties later, he decided he wanted a new suit. We now stood among the separates when he made this declaration about his roommate.

"Yeah, I think you're right. Did he ever call the woman from the art class? Danielle? _Shit, I never picked up our paintings!_ We need to stop by after this."

"I forgot as well. That's not like me. I have reason to believe he contacted her, but he didn't tell me that explicitly. I asked him a few days ago but he told me to mind my mouth and then left to buy chicken. He returned with a grease stain on his shirt so I know he told the truth. I haven't noticed any increase in his phone calls or text messages but he received one at work and quickly flipped over his cell phone. He hasn't left the house any more than usual and hasn't been gone for longer periods of time. He's perfectly focused on cases and not distracted. So, possibly. I think we may have to catch him in the act."

"How's that going to happen? He's probably on his phone in the bathroom."

"That's a good idea."

"Wait - what is?"

I had the horrible image of Connor barging in while Hank was taking a shit, Hank screaming, and Connor calmly taking Hank's phone from his hands to review recent messages.

"I haven't observed Hank take his phone into the bathroom because he does not normally leave it out. Perhaps he stashed it somewhere I haven't found. Though I find that doubtful. Let's ask him again later. He'll be happy to know you're back at the bar tonight."

"All right, let's ask him. Otherwise I have another idea," I said. "A dating profile."

Connor's eyes widened at my proposition. "Oh, I don't think he would like that at all. He's very private. Perhaps we start with Danielle, but-"

It wasn't like Connor to trail off in the middle of a thought, he was typically vocal about his musings.

"But what?"

"I know Hank cares for me and has mostly turned around his views on us, but I'm unsure if he would want to pursue anything further than a friendship with an android. And as far as I'm aware, he hasn't dated since his ex-wife."

"How long ago was that?"

"Shortly after his son's death. She blamed him for the accident although that was not the case. I believe his drinking was a result of the accident and preceded the divorce."

"Well shit. That's horrible."

"Yes. Needless to say Hank continues to spend much of his time with just myself and Sumo. Perhaps a dog park once the weather is nicer?"

"That's actually a really good idea. Let Sumo choose the ladies. I think we have a plan, Connor."


	9. A Decisive Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one night, what is this malarkey. Here's a little bit of fluff, little bit of anticipation.  
I've got a lot on my PC I want to toss up. I made the stupid decision to go back to college next week (I'm about 7 years out of practice) so I'm sure between my class and my job, I'm going to have to start slowing down on this a tad. Still plenty to come, I promise.

We drove through a light flurry to the community center next to retrieve the pieces from last week. All were available except for Hank and Danielle's dual-work.

"Connor, Hank doesn't have that one, does he?"

"No. She must have taken it."

"Do you think she asked him?"

"Only if she had his number and I don't remember seeing her do so…. But he has hers."

Another short drive later, the snow not indicative of letting up, we stopped at their house with his shopping haul and the paintings. Hank was having lunch on the sofa with Sumo next to him.

"You're back already," he managed through a bite of a burrito.

I tossed the screwdriver from this morning into the coffee table.

"Thanks for the suggestion, Hank."

I laid the paintings against whatever bit of wall I could find as Connor headed to put away his new clothes.

"No more puns, Hank. I had to explain that one as well. '_Remember the joke about the drill, Connor_?' '_Oh_.'"

"Got more where that came from. So, he finally going to start dressing like a real person and not some fresh-from-CyberLife Gucci-chic mannequin? It's been over a year, he was brainwashed for all of what, four months? Gotta start blending in a bit."

"Fashion hasn't exactly been a high priority," said Connor upon his return. He finally ditched the police jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and changed up his tie. Dark blue. At least we were getting someplace. I couldn't help but give him a once over. He noticed.

"Do you need to leave?" he asked me.

"I can stay for a little bit. Do you mind?" I looked to Hank for his approval. He wiped his mouth and stood to toss out his trash.

"Wanna help clean the house? Connor's got us on this goddamn schedule," he said.

"Sure, yeah, I don't mind. Where should I start?"

"Are you certain, Lana? Your work may be for nothing," Connor noted.

"Hey, Connor. Enough. She offered to help, she wants to help."

I shrugged in agreement looking between them both.

"All right then," Hank said with a raise of his hands. "Connor, you think you can fix the vacuum? It sucked up something it shouldn't have."

"Sure thing, Hank," he said, departing to find the poor creature.

"I'll get your bathroom," I offered.

"Ugh, you sure you want that one?" Hank asked. "Usually it's in pretty good shape cause, ya know, Connor. But he's been a little _distracted_. I wonder why that is."

I rolled my eyes at the tease. "Hank, you have a girl visiting now. Yes, I want to take that one," I said, begging with two hands before me.

"You're brave," he said.

I headed to the bathroom, hearing Connor on the floor of Hank's room. I started with picking up the trash, it was amazing how much of a mess Hank could make. More food and drink containers than should ever be appropriate for a bathroom. Even I engaged in the occasional shower beer but always navigated to the recycling bin afterwards.

I was scouring under the sink cabinet for something resembling bleach or Lysol when Connor interrupted with an apology from across the hall.

"We ran out, Lana. I have not had a chance to purchase more cleaning solution. I will go now."

I met him in the hall, stopping him with a hand to the chest.

"It's okay, I'll whip something up."

I returned to the kitchen where Hank helped me find what I needed after rifling through the cabinets: vinegar, soap, and a spray bottle.

After a solid half hour of thoroughly scrubbing down the bathtub, tile flooring, and toilet, and reorganizing his body products (_who knew that Irish Spring was still around_) I grabbed his clothes from yesterday (_or was this what he wore on Sunday?_) and shoved them in the hamper. I went across the hall to Hank's room where Connor was tidying up the bed. The roomba was now bopping around happily.

"Hey, does he have any dirty laundry?"

Connor raised an eyebrow and surveyed the room.

"Yeah, got it." I collected what I could find which also very unfortunately included one very crusty washcloth. I nearly gagged on myself and hurriedly disposed of everything in the hamper, thoroughly washing my hands.

I ran back out to the living room only to see Hank headbanging in circles with headphones and a mop on the kitchen tile, screaming incoherent grunts into the end like a microphone. Sumo was watching from a corner, Hank's only cheerleader.

I leaned against the sofa for a few moments to watch this bemusing phenomenon in morbid fascination, when I felt Connor brush my arm and whisper, "Watch this."

With his back to us, Hank suddenly stopped moving and...singing. "Connor!"

He whipped around with fire in his eyes. I looked over at Connor whose LED blinked twice, an impish smile across his lips.

Hank's features settled. "THANK YOU."

Connor turned back to finish with the bedroom. As sneakily as I could while Hank was distracted I rummaged around his desk for more sticky notes and a pen.

I scribbled a memo, dashed back to the bathroom, and left it atop the hamper.

Finished with that, I gathered the trash around the rest of his home, two bags ready to take outside. By then, Hank had finished sweeping and mopping the tile and hardwood and went outside to shovel, the roomba had made its way to the living room rug, and Connor had assisted putting everything back in their rightful places, now offering to assist with the trash.

Coats on (Connor had a DPD sweatshirt I hadn't seen before, and it actually _fit_ so it couldn't have been Hank's), we headed out.

'Some' snow was an understatement. It's like the heavens had burst forth in a grand suggestive scheme to isolate me at Hank's house and curl up with Sumo and Connor by the fireplace. An entire foot had fallen which only meant there was more to come. We waded out with the trashbags as Hank did his best to push the snow down the block and away from my tires.

He was headed back up a few feet to start another line when I got the most nefarious idea. I knew I was only asking for my own suffering, having no gloves, and very poor aim.

_Smack_.

Right in Hank's back. I bit my lip to stop myself from cackling as Hank slowly turned around with slitted eyes and a deep grumble, the snow falling off him like smashed cake.

He pushed the shovel to the side like a broken spear where it disappeared into the snow.

"One guess that wasn't you, Connor."

"No, I have no idea where that came from. I was observing the billboards in the distance."

My laugh finally burst forth. And then -

"Oh _shit_."

_Smack_. In my left thigh. Hank brushed the snow from his hands, ready to prepare another one with a devilish grin.

From there, I immediately rioted, squeezing handfuls as fast as I could, blindly pummeling them towards the older man as he retaliated.

Connor joined in, first as an ally -

"Hey! Where's the partner loyalty, Connor! I feel betrayed!"

"I'm sorry, Hank! But I have a lot of unresolved anger about our time together!"

\- then eventually as my nemesis after Hank's plea.

"Connor, I don't even ask you to pay rent! The least you can do is help me out here, man!"

We were around the side of the house at this point, Connor and I hunched down behind the back living room window, having started to stockpile against Hank's fortification in the front yard.

Connor took one innocent look at me and apologized - "It's nothing personal" - but not without shoving his current snowball right into my lower back.

I screeched, some of the flakes trickling down my pants, and ran (trudged) around the back of the house in a failed attempt to escape. Hank met me with one to the chest, I rounded back to Connor, my legs starting to burn with the effort to wade through the snow. He was hunched down away from me - "Jump on!" - and I didn't hesitate. I launched myself as ungracefully as I could manage for piggybacking, and scooped snow from the kitchen windowsill, prepared for one last assault on Hank.

"Hey, what the hell is this! Gotta learn to say 'no' to a woman, Connor!"

Connor took Hank's shots like a pro as I landed one right in his beard.

Connor's own grace failed him when he tripped and dropped us in a heap and I laughed into the snow, yanking Connor up closer to me by the collar for protection. In one more defiant act, Hank stood over us and dropped two snowballs right into our faces.

"Yippee ki yay, mother fuckers. Hey, Connor, aren't you going to freeze out here?"

I sputtered and helped wipe off Connor's face as he spoke. "I've been able to regulate through the constant motion but yes, I should return inside."

"All right, can't have you getting damaged on me, come on." Hank reached down a hand, then his other. "You too, I guess." He pulled us up so we could brush off. My lungs hurt from laughing and screaming and huffing the cold air, Hank's cheeks were flushed, and the snow stuck in Connor's hair.

We returned inside so at least Hank and I could warm up for a few before he went back out to finish shoveling and I departed as well for the day to take over the bar for the remainder of the weekend.

* * *

Connor texted me a few hours later with a picture of the note I had left on the hamper for Hank and then a question mark.

_Put your SIN in the BIN_

_~ lana_

* * *

I was in between my locations, finalizing the contracting work. Even with their legally mandated breaks now, the android crew was incredibly efficient and completed way ahead of my proposed schedule. I was close to opening a shiny new bar, furnished with a sound stage, high tops and tables, fully stocked back room, and new management. This was going to at least get close to meet my expectations for a shared space. Even if I couldn't get my hands on extra blue blood, this should draw in a crowd. I was also excited to invite out Hank and Connor and come see my completed work.

They did not appear later that night or the night after, citing casework via a brief text message from Connor and then a sad dog face emoji. Given the snowfalls from that day and into the week, I honestly would have been surprised if they managed to make it out this way. I didn't see or hear from either of them for most of the following two weeks into the weekend except for a brief visit fairly early one mid-week evening which was an unusual time for them.

"Thinking we need to start calling ahead," Hank said when they entered. "You're a busy woman! How many you up to now and why haven't we been invited?"

"Two currently under operation, the third will be opening soon. But that one's going to be a surprise! So no research! And this one's really more your style, Hank. The other one's a bit more _hip_."

"These hips don't lie, Lana."

They took their usual stools before me and I leaned over to steal a kiss from Connor, leaving him momentarily bewildered and then eased into a smile, relaxing back from his straight-laced posture.

"_Barf_," Hank said.

"Oh Hank, I think you're just a little jealous," Connor quipped. "Would you feel more included if I did that to you?" He wrapped an arm around Hank's shoulders with a gentle shake.

Hank grimaced at me. "Give me something I can pour over his head, will ya?"

Connor released with another playful nudge and then leaned over the bar. "Not orange juice. That will congeal in my circuits."

They told me what they had been working on that week. A couple cyberhacks into local businesses, one kidnapping of an orphaned android child, and a handful of domestic disturbances. Hank in particular had extra work to do divvying up cases and smoothing things over with the FBI.

"That shit-for-brains Perkins wanted to file an investigation into misconduct by the DPD; i.e., _us_ -"

(He wagged a thumb between himself and Connor at this.)

"- after I punched him in the face and let Connor do what he needed to. Which of course led Connor to Jericho and Markus and deviancy and a ton of Perkins' men dying. But hey, what can you do. I played my part."

"Okay, hold on a second," I said. "I don't think I heard this one. You punched an FBI agent _why_?"

"He was a jerk," Connor said.

Hank cast Connor a side glance as he spoke. "Uh - yeah...real jerk. Wanted to take over when we were at Stratford. Came back to gather all our evidence but Connor needed it to find that Jericho place. Punched him to create a distraction."

"Oh. Well then I would agree that you, Hank Anderson, are the real hero here."

"Damn straight I am."

"I actually don't think you told me about all that. About Jericho."

"In part, I did," Connor said. "That was where I met Markus. I was still hunting for the deviant leader." He gave me the gist of the rest of his brief adventure aboard the freight liner. When the army invaded and he had to help the others escape to the ruined church to hide. Connor's brief fear that Markus would be angry for essentially leading the humans right to them.

"You did good, Connor," Hank said. "Look, snow's coming down again, we should get out of here."

He headed for the door, pausing when he noticed Connor wasn't following, then grunted a wave and left. Connor leaned forward and I entertained the gesture with a deep kiss over the countertop.

One of my patrons in the corner whistled. "_You get it, girl!_"

I released with a laugh and shoved Connor on his way.

* * *

Late Saturday night, after a few very long days at the new site, I returned to my neighborhood bar to let Will off his shift. He handed me a blank white envelope. "Your friends were looking for you."

_Dammit_.

As he left, I opened it, revealing two tickets to a performance at the Orchestra Hall. I recalled that the organization was finally able to gather a full orchestra again a couple months ago after several of their members had been victim to the camps. This was one of their first performances in a new series with the new ensemble.

And this was also one of the items on Connor's to-do list.

I looked again at the date on the tickets.

_Wednesday: 2/8/40: 9pm_

That should give me at least _some _time to find appropriate attire. I'm fairly certain that my closet did not contain the semi-formal dress that this place requested of its patrons unless I could patch together my curtains and a kitchen apron.

I closed up shortly after midnight and drove to their house. No lights, but as I stood on the sidewalk debating whether or not to text Connor or knock on the door or retreat like the awkward teenage stalker I was starting to emulate, the front door opened slightly to reveal that small blue dot. He stepped out and met me on the curb.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Being indecisive and freezing my ass off," I said. "I...didn't want to bother you. Just wanted to thank you for the surprise at work. I'm so sorry I missed you both."

He reached out to envelop me in a tight hug. "No need. We have been just as occupied at the station. Was this a good choice for a date? I realize it's somewhat formal but it should be enjoyable."

"It is," I said. I didn't want to release him. It could snow five feet to my neck and I wouldn't need to budge. I pulled back just enough to look up at him, not releasing my hold on his sides. "Thank you." I stole a quick kiss and then pushed away to head back to the car. As much as I fantasized, if I stayed out much longer my feet would freeze to the curb.

He waited for me to turn the car around and depart before returning inside.

* * *

A second snowstorm blew in over night. Additional crews were already out clearing the streets and pushing the deluge from the sidewalks. This wouldn't put too much of a hamper on my shopping plans; again, an eager population and technological advancements meant greater efficiencies and greater efficiencies meant more time nervously spinning in front of dressing room mirrors trying to find a damn dress that didn't accentuate how much I loved beer!

Ten and a half dresses later - I could barely call one of them a dress, more like something mistakenly misracked from the lingerie department - I felt the attendee becoming a little perturbed with my indecisiveness. Her light spun yellow, trying to remain professional yet eager to make commission and move me along.

"Who is this for, sweetie?" she finally asked through the door.

"Uh - for me. For - a guy, I guess. I don't know." I flung open the door, desperate for female advice. "We're going to that symphony. First date jitters."

"Human or android."

"Huh? Oh, android…" It felt odd saying that as the days and months went on after the mass conversion. "Does that make a difference?"

"Depends. How updated is he?"

Another quizzical look on my face prompted another question and strong insinuations. "Is he like a human man? Did he go for an upgrade? Software _and_ the hardware?"

I'm ashamed how long it took me to grasp the questions, considering I was typically the one to think these things first. I had to say I was impressed with her mind.

"Oh. No, I - I don't know. I don't think so. I haven't - we haven't…. Why are you asking me that?"

"Because it probably means you can tone it down. Keep it basic. One thing I've noticed when men come in here to buy something for women, the humans are more… visual in certain areas. The androids, just happy to have the freedom to walk in and buy something with their own money and as long as she's comfortable, there's no difference. Point is, I'm guessing if he doesn't have the hardware, you're not getting anywhere with that low cut. But hey, maybe he's a _giver_."

I could understand her point to an extent. Human men = horny. Got it. And Connor the giver… she wasn't _entirely_ off base with that one though I could feel a blush rise to my face at her stronger implication.

To compromise, I nabbed the third most expensive for her troubles, not so long I would trip over it, and not so short I wouldn't be able to walk naturally.

Part of me wondered if Connor found me attractive, physically. But getting to know him, sensing that unabashed desire for companionship, it was truly the least of my concerns and I eagerly looked forward to finally spending some more time alone with him. I loved our hangouts as a trio at my bar, truly, and I missed not seeing them more recently, but we needed this to help establish whatever _this_ was.


	10. Another Gift

On Tuesday, I was beginning to feel nervous. I couldn't recall the last time a guy took me out on a date that was actually something other than shooting pool at a sports bar, watching a fight at the hockey rink, or the usual dinner-and-a-movie-with-the-expectation-of-sex-after, except I'd typically decline the aftermath. Typically. I wasn't the type to purposefully go out for just a free drink or a free meal, but it was simply that I wasn't _interested_ in the after-party. I was no saint by any means, but those kinds of dates were the majority I ran into back in the day so it was wonderfully refreshing to be invited out to something more traditional.

And his idea, symphony tickets of all things, it was appropriate. Connor had already expressed interest in music and he did enjoy _My Fair Lady_.

'_Fiddler' should be next on the list._

I hadn't been sure what to expect from Connor for a first date idea when he mentioned the desire to take me out. Another art class, maybe? A movie? A heavy metal concert upon advisement of Hank so he could join as well?

(That wasn't the worst idea, Hank would be an entertaining third wheel and neither of us would mind. Although Connor headbanging wasn't something I could clearly picture. Hank, assuredly, even myself, yes. But I wasn't about to encourage the possibility of a loose screw.)

Or perhaps some alone time at their house with Hank passed out in the other room so we could play cards in silence on their kitchen floor and Sumo be the ajudicator?

All of those sounded wonderful and I cataloged them away for future ideas.

There was a rumor that travel bans would be lifted soon as the violence was beginning to decrease across the country. Not eradicated completely, that would probably never happen. People were still in-fighting amongst themselves about race and religion and politics and would continue to do so until they blew themselves up in every subsequent war. Artificial intelligence would not be their downfall. It would be themselves, unable and unwilling to compromise their values for the safety of our species.

Blessed are the androids; for they would inherit the earth.

The time to be meek and gentle had long passed. Markus made the decision that day in November of '38.

I recalled an article questioning the inevitability of androids in politics. Dated, of course, it was written when they were still complacent to their programming. We were still far away from returning to that idea of having them as elected officials in state and federal government. It was hard enough for humans to vote for human politicians, I couldn't even recall the last time I didn't feel like I had to select the lesser of evils. Perhaps people would choose otherwise because now there could actually be options who didn't succumb to bribery and lobbying and scandals of who fucks who and where, but that's all forgiven because they love Jesus.

Only time would tell as would the actions of Markus and the other revolution leaders that had risen to prominence. Only then may we all be able to experience the real freedom of our choices and not suffer the thick red tape that had always dominated human _democracy_, whip and gag ball between Madame Liberty's taut copper fingers.

Back to the airlines. The news was beginning to report preliminary discussions concerning the testing of an android-only flight service. Rumors from the TSA instructed that humans would be permitted as secondary passengers if vouched for by a primary passenger. On the surface, it may have seemed like discrimination against humans, and certainly _many_ news outlets were reporting it as such. But it was for safety. There were still simply too many humans in the country that didn't trust androids since the onset of deviancy. Trust was returning, steadily and surely, Markus made damn sure of that, but not at a fast enough pace that we _shouldn't_ have policies in place such as the proposed until safety for all was ensured.

However, once approved, we could travel to DC and see the museums like Connor wanted. Perhaps Florida and the half-sunken remnants of once-extravagant theme parks. Maybe the three of us could even ride the broken down teacups. Android Mickey waving us on as Connor's tie and Hank's hair flap in the Orlando breeze like windsock kites.

He had also mentioned Niagara Falls. It could be an extended weekend drive as soon as the snow cleared. It wasn't at the top of my own personal vacation bucket list but it was supposed to be quite the tourist trap these days and the idea of the rotating restaurant always piqued my interest.

_Imagine having sex against one of those windows. You could moon the entire city_.

_Hank would have a fun time writing up _that _arrest record_.

* * *

I had slept in late that morning, per my usual, now enjoying my second coffee when I received a text from Connor:

_Would you like to have lunch with Hank and I at the Chicken Feed in twenty?_

_I do not suggest it but he is being very adamant._

Connor and I had already begun a very simple and slow text exchange ever since we swapped numbers that day at the DPD. No phone calls, just a couple messages every other day or so. _Good morning, Good night, Hank says hello. _He preferred live conversations, which I adored, but these still put a smile on my face. The greetings increased as our respective work picked up, contrary to the logic of time and space. He'd check in on me very early in the morning, typically before I had even woken up and I'd have barely enough energy to stab a single emoji into the screen. I began a habit of sending him photos of dogs I'd encounter on my way to lunch or the grocery stores or to the bars.

Once in return I received one fucking adorably innocent image of Sumo all but consuming Connor's body under his sprawled torso. Connor looked perturbed but not minding it in the slightest, arms spayed at odd angles to either side. Hank must have been the appointed photographer due to the angle and I imagined Hank's instructions. _All right, Sumo, stay! Good boy! Don't crush Connor! That's Lana's job!_

I replied:

_A creature after my own heart._

_He appreciates the warmth as well, I see._

The past couple days in particular saw a sharp increase in our communication, perhaps in preliminary anticipatory excitement for Wednesday night. He explicitly asked if I had purchased a new dress and if I would tell him in case he needed to find a new tie to match.

_This isn't prom. No, I'm not telling you. It's a surprise._

One quick shower and drive later, after angrily and tenaciously wiping the additional snow from the car, I found the food truck not far from the DPD. The entire atmosphere of the stand matched Hank's demeanor. Greasy, out-dated, failed multiple health inspections...

The other two weren't there yet so I ordered and grabbed what claimed to be the grilled chicken sandwich over the window.

Behind me, Hank and Connor rolled up in their car and both stepped out. Hank slammed the roof and pointed a finger at his partner. "Told ya, Connor! I knew this was a woman who didn't mind a little grease in her arteries."

Connor shook his head in disapproval and came to stand with me at one of the tables while Hank ordered and made small talk with the owner.

"Guessing you're not a fan, huh," I said.

He leaned over to press a kiss to my temple before looking back to eye up whatever Hank was ordering.

"No," he said. "I'm shocked Hank hasn't had a heart attack yet. We come here too often. The best I can do is keep him on a regimen of supplements."

He watched me unpeel the sandwich and scarf down a few bites. It was cold out, the food was warm, and frankly this wasn't a horrible choice.

"Connor," I managed to say behind my hand, "that judgmental look you're giving me right now... zero effect. None."

Hank clapped me on the back as he came over to take his place in front of us. "Good to hear you're immune, Lana. He tell you how many calories are in that? How about the fucking _cholesterol_?"

"No! No, I haven't heard this one. _Please_ tell me, Connor. Tell us how horrible my delicious greasy totally-not-actually-grilled sandwich is for my body?"

Connor watched us both in bemused disgust and began to open his mouth in mock reply but there was no more sandwich left to analyze.

"Impressive," Hank said to me. "Guess you really like coc-… chicken."

I bit back my lips to suppress a laugh, crumpling up the trash into a ball. Hank raised his eyebrows at me, thinking he had slipped that one past Connor, his buried laughter skillfully hidden behind a mouth-full of french fries and soda.

Connor sighed.

I detected pride in Hank's responding smile, like a man taking his son to a strip club for the first time. _Gaze on, son, gaze at the tits for they are the glory of heaven. Now slip in a single and get me a beer._

"Didn't think you'd catch that one," Hank said.

"I wish I hadn't," Connor said. "Living with you has been an eye-opening experience in more ways than I could have imagined."

"Same, kid, same."

Hank finished his meal and escorted all the garbage to the bin, wiping his hands on his coat.

"All right, enjoy the long lunch break, Connor. Want you back at two."

"Yes, Hank," said Connor.

We watched Hank drive away and then Connor and I turned back to my own car. "Well this is a nice surprise," I said. "Hank gave you some time off?"

"With our work schedules picking up recently, Hank and I felt this necessary. I'm happy you were available. One hour 43 minutes left," he said, opening the door.

"Where to?"

"A used bookstore opened in Greektown. I want to take a look for Hank. Is that all right?"

"Absolutely."

* * *

The store didn't entirely fit in with the surrounding businesses, sitting at the far end of a canopied row of high-end fashion, interior decor, and automotive accessory shops as well as a CyberLife outlet I hadn't noticed previously. I asked Connor if he knew about that.

"Yes, they offer a variety of services. Small mechanical repairs, module installs... I suppose the equivalent for you would be something like an emergency clinic or plastic surgery."

"Those are two very different types of doctor, but I get the gist. Looks like this one's the closest to you."

"It is."

"Have you ever had to go there?"

He paused on the sidewalk and I halted, half-turning back to catch his gaze. "Connor?"

"Yes. I have had some close-calls in the field with Hank which required minor repairs. Don't be alarmed, it's all in a day's work."

Of course I knew he's been shot at, wounded, repaired, rinse and repeat. I knew that on a base logical level. Talking about it was a bit different because he had never shared the gory details of it in prior conversations. "Well, when was the most recent visit?"

"Monday January 30th, 6:58 PM"

"Connor, that - was a week ago! I saw both of you after that at the bar! You didn't want to share that with me? Wha-what happened? Which case was it?"

"The android kidnapping. Bullet graze and then a clean entry and exit to my left side."

I pushed out a sigh. They had mentioned the case in their last visit.

A distraught army-vet human mother who had lost her own son in the midst of the exodus had returned to try and find him. With no luck and lost hope, she remained in Detroit, eventually gathering android children. A seemingly Good Samaritan act until authorities were notified she had no adoption paperwork and was scooping orphaned androids off the street to act as her housekeepers. The woman had slipped into a state of mental chaos. When Connor and Hank arrived with an agent from the A-CPS (Android - Child Protective Services), I was told that they were ambushed, Connor gave brief chase through the apartment complex, and Hank managed to pin her down.

"I don't recall _any_ mention of you getting hurt."

"She managed to hit me in the stairwell."

"Geezus fuck, Connor, why didn't you tell me? How many other times have you been there since we've met?"

"Three. Minor damage to both audio processors and torn left forearm. There were five additional incidents prior to our meeting. After I noticed your reaction when I told you the Stratford story, I did not want to alarm you. I'm sorry for withholding information."

Before I could catch myself, I scoffed and said, "Please, I've probably seen worse in my time growing up. And those were humans..."

I realized how that came across and covered my face with my hands -

"_SHIT!"_

\- turning away before any other ignorant bullshit spewed from my lips.

I laid my hands out in a plea. "Fuck, I'm sorry, Connor. I - I didn't mean that how it sounded! It's all horrible. I - I'm sorry."

He peered at me, curious. "What did you mean? Who have you seen hurt?"

"No one, look, let's get over-"

"Lana."

I sighed, regretting my big mouth and no filter. "I shouldn't have said anything. I'll tell you but I've - I just _really_ don't want to talk about it right now. Please. I promise. Don't go… looking anything up. All right? And I'm sorry for getting upset. If something happens to you, will you tell me? Whatever it is, trust me, I probably won't be alarmed or get upset, I'd just - I'd like to know."

He paused, again perhaps contemplating my accidental word vomit. I was grateful that he dropped the topic. "I didn't realize you cared."

"Oh, of _course _I - wipe that smirk off your face, Connor! Let's get to the store and find your things for Hank before we run out of time!"

I could still feel Connor's eyes on me as we walked, the split-second of humor gone from us. I took his hand to anchor me back to reality, begging for him to just focus on _this_ and our task at hand.

_Don't go looking anything up._

* * *

The bookstore was deceptively spacious and the smell hit me nearly immediately. The air was permeated with that strong waft of paper and ink and cardboard and old binding on the verge of decay in desperation to be purchased and cared for immediately by the next rejecter of digital media.

I noticed a small note in the window as we entered. _You browse it you buy it_. With the decline of print formats over the years, stores like this were in strong demand by collectors but also couldn't afford the casual peruser. Humans were the primary clientele but android curiosity drew them here as well, as evidenced by the flicker of a few lights I saw throughout the aisles.

Perhaps this was a desire for the tactile sensations they had long been denied.

"What are we looking for?" I asked.

"I'd like to find Hank anything about music. He's been inundated at work. Perhaps this could help him relax."

"That's nice of you."

We spent the next hour fingering through the store, easily distracted by other subjects and genres. I found a couple coffee table books of concert photography and received Connor's seal of approval. Three autobiographies and a _Make Your Own Rockstar_ coloring book later (a personal gag gift from myself, although art therapy _was_ a proven treatment for the grumps), we squeezed together for a few minutes in an oversized chair in a back corner to swap our findings.

He was thumbing through a very old Playbill as I flipped through the coloring book -

"We need to get Hank some Crayons"

\- pausing at a very animated Steven Tyler who was covered up a moment later with the booklet.

"For you," Connor said.

I chuckled at his discovery, breath sticking in my throat at the title:

_Lincoln Center Theater_

_At The Vivian Beaumont_

_Lerner & Loewe's_

_My Fair Lady_

I set aside the coloring book, holding the Playbill with such delicacy and humility, this ancient talisman of good virtue and the one item I had truly desired to add to my collection.

"I concluded this was one of your favorites. You were perfectly content when we watched the movie the other week. And I noticed a hard copy of _Pygmalion_ stored with the soundtrack."

I whispered, as if afraid that my breath would flutter the ink right off the cover. I rested my head against Connor's shoulder in deep gratefulness and awe. "I always wanted to see this live. I can't believe this was here. And you found it… I think this… it means more to me than you realize. Thank you."

"I'm glad." He pressed a kiss into my hair and then announced it was time for me to take him back to work.

I was reluctant to leave this sanctuary now that I had this token in my hands, enraptured with the cover art and the fact that he had taken notice (_He's an ANALYST, you ass. It's his job to notice shit like this_), this simple desire to find something meaningful to me even though we had come here under a completely different mission.

"I'm sure Hank would understand if we spent extra time together, but I prefer not to be late for my shifts."

"That's okay. Have you ever? Been late?"

"No. And as enjoyable as my time is with you, I have a record to keep."

"A record? You competing with the other officers? Perfect attendance?"

"Something like that."

...

In the car, I asked, "Hey, do you want me to drop these off at your place?"

"Are you sure? That should be okay. There's a spare key behind a loose stone in his steps. Will you leave everything in my room? Then it can still be a surprise for Hank."

"My pleasure. I might sit with Sumo for a bit. Is he okay when you're both out? I can - well I'll ask Hank, but I'd be more than happy to start dropping by and take him out for a few if you both get stuck with something?"

"Typically one of us will check on him around this time. I imagine Hank already went by today. But yes, I can mention it to him for you. I'm sure he would appreciate it."

I pulled in front of the station but Connor did not immediately leave, pausing a moment to look me over.

"Are you ready for our date?" he asked.

"Not in the slightest," I said. I giggled into a light kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow."

...

A couple minutes later I was bringing Hank's books in. Sumo greeted me with a sniff, slowly trailing me to Connor's room where I placed everything on his bed, perfectly made and tucked, no evidence that I had been here or he used it since.

I sat on the edge, Sumo taking a seat against my leg.

It had been a little over three weeks now since I had slept here and slightly less than that when we had dropped off the paintings and pummeled each other with snowballs in the yard.

When the three of us had come back inside and Connor took to his room to change into a dry shirt, Hank turned to me in thanks as he shook out his coat.

"I needed that. Pissed off it was two against one, though. And I was the one. You pit me against the _Terminator_ there."

"Well, snow's going to be here a while, I'm sure we'll have another chance."

"Probably a lot of chances. Keeps telling me he wants you around more."

I noticed now that Connor had hung up the individual art pieces he and I had done behind his bed and my chest tightened again. I had to chuckle. Sumo looked up as if to give his critique as well. He was seemingly indifferent.

They were horribly mismatched and out of place among the neutral-toned organization, bright pitcher plants and green venus fly traps side by side with a peaceful lazy river of blues and yellows. _At least they had a common nature theme_?

I tapped Sumo's side to follow me back out. He headed straight to his bed by the computer to resume his early afternoon nap and hung on that patch of wall above the vent were the canvases that Connor and I had done together to portray one gigantic mimicry of the dog now sprawled beneath.

I gave Sumo a final head scratch before I departed for the rest of the day. As much as I would have liked to linger, half-tempted to even take a nap with Sumo on Connor's bed, it didn't feel right to be there without them. But I did hope that Hank would consider calling me up to care for his dog.

I sat in silence in the car for a few long minutes with the Playbill in my lap propped against the steering wheel. Connor's first gift of the inflated yellow dog from New Year's lay pathetic and lifeless behind the bar counter and would remain there for as long as the building still stood, eventually to be covered by society's ash and dusty remains once I was long gone. The book I held now, pages loosening from the binding, crumpled corners and a crease down the middle, it had traveled with someone quite a ways from New York to end up in a used bookseller here in Detroit. Who had seen this performance and was cognizant enough to save this keepsake that so many others would have recycled or tossed in the city's overflowing bins?

I thanked whoever they were, whoever may have found this in their grandmother's attic or estate sale and recognized it as a collectible for someone such as myself who yearned to have seen Julie Andrews alive and on stage.

I did wonder if it would be blasphemy for CyberLife to recreate historical figures, celebrities, somehow program them and imbue them with the same talents and skills as humans long gone. Films were already using digital likenesses to carry on legacies, would it be a great crime to manifest them in the synthetic flesh to reproduce great works and performances? What if Julie wanted to be a professional athlete instead?

_The hills are alive with the _thwack _of tennis balls. The points they have scored over a thousand games_.

I'd watch it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little history lesson for ya since I have a hardon for this musical and keep bringing it up in the fic:
> 
> My Fair Lady (the movie) was released in 1964 with Audrey Hepburn and Rex Harrison as the lead roles. Audrey was dubbed by Marni Nixon who sang all of her songs except for "Just You Wait" (which is my personal favorite, so that's pretty cool). [This is the Columbia Records LP soundtrack that Lana and Connor listen to briefly before he walks in on her changing. Poor guy.]
> 
> The movie was based on the musical of the same name, which was released on Broadway in 1956, that time with Julie Andrews as the original Eliza Doolittle. (Harrison was Higgins who reprised his role in '64.) Apparently Julie wasn't called back for the film production because she wasn't 'known' enough as a film actress, ironic considering that she went on to film Mary Poppins that same year.
> 
> Let's keep going back in time. The musical was based on the play "Pygmalion" by George Bernard Shaw in 1913 where it premiered in Austria.
> 
> Now how's this for a tidbit that I only just learned recently while fact-checking for this fic. Pygmalion is a Greek mythological figure who was a sculptor that fell in love with his own creation. (Breath of life into a statue? Anyone? I think that's a pretty cool coincidence if I say so myself.)


	11. An Interruption

The following evening was the symphony. My nerves were already actively firing through every synapse and vein in my body, my defiant limbs shaking like they used to during thunderstorms as a child. _It's okay, Lana, it's just the angels bowling_, my parents would say. Despite the fact that I never believed in angels in the first place, it didn't help to dispel that slow creeping panic attack which, if left unchecked, could only be suppressed by counting to ten, twenty, thirty, with eyes pressed into palms on the bathroom floor.

I purposefully hadn't drunk any more coffee as that would have only constricted my chest tighter than it already felt. No need to relive the thunderstorms. Sunshine and meadows for me, thank you.

I had dyed my hair fresh a couple days ago, only now noticing a lingering stain on my scalp as I finished my makeup in the bathroom. I yanked my hair into style in an attempt to hide my carelessness. With each strand tucked into place, another one popped out, this game of whack-a-mole strenuously testing my patience.

I was not even close to being ready. The dress was haunting me from my closet in the bedroom, a daunting reminder to don a new skin, perfume, jewelry all for the sake of formalities and tradition, to become someone else just for a night, someone who I knew that Connor would appreciate with gleaming eager eyes, someone who could only be presented under _just_ the right conditions.

Connor was the right condition.

As much as my sardonic attitude may have portrayed otherwise, I truly was very giddy to exchange compliments and appreciative gazes under flickering streetlamps.

My fantasies were already running wild wondering how the night would play out, where we would go after the theater emptied and we were tucked away in the back of a taxi behind shaded windows. A brief shutter lurched down my spine, down, down, _down_, imagining Connor's lips along my neck, grazing to sights unseen. I had to forcefully blink away the sensations as I kept trying to fix my hair.

I had had a full day among all my locations earlier to check in, beginning with a nice early six AM wakeup, inventory counts, couple performance reviews, one interview. All before 10 AM when a reporter from the local news managed to track me down. I had secretly forgotten this was even on my schedule but I greeted her with the airs of a woman completely in sync with the world around. Not distracted or inundated in the slightest. Nope, not me.

It was going to be a brief article for the next morning, a simple announcement that the club was opening next weekend, describing what was to be expected, in an effort to get me more exposure. "Not that you need it," she said. "You're going to have a monopoly soon if more humans don't start returning to the city."

"I've been lucky."

And I wouldn't dare say it aloud, but would that really be _so_ bad if we remained a majority-android city? How different would that be from any other urban area with an overwhelming populace of one race or another? You have your Little Italys, Little Polands, Chinatowns...I had heard something about other cities experiencing rises of android ghettos, but given the bias of the news, they were probably downplaying those neighborhoods' successes.

After that was concluded, Hank interrupted with a text message at 12:23 asking if I wanted to meet him for a game at the bowling alley. The place had been run down for a while when I moved here but it was part of the revitalization project around the city and was now home again to birthday parties and reluctant retirements.

_Why the fuck not_.

When I entered, I spotted Hank's raggy mop at an end lane.

"Aren't you supposed to be running a police station, Hank? The hell am I doing here?" I shouted down. The place was dead at this hour. I slipped the attendant my card in exchange for a pair of one-size-too-big clownish bowling shoes with mismatched laces and headed over, removing my boots as I walked. Had to be efficient.

"Wanted to talk to you," he said. "Connor's coming so I'll make this quick. Haven't really had a chance since you and him are always stuck at the mouths."

"Well, whenever you want to take a turn with him, let me know." I peeled off my coat and rolled up my sleeves. Business time.

Hank's face contorted into a mix of revulsion, disbelief, and a general _what-the-fuck-is-up-with-this-girl_ appearance.

"I'm good, thanks." He looked up at me from the creaky plastic red chair, one in a row of three which was situated to one side of the scoring terminal. I went ahead and made sure he had plugged our names in.

_Player: Lana_. _Set_.

_Player: Hank. Set._

_Player: Connor. Set._

Some stupid cartoonish animations on the TV above displayed round-headed kids rolling their balls into the gutter as Hank spoke, their minds literally spinning in disappointment when they failed.

"Connor said you offered to check on Sumo when we're on shift. I'll let you know. Fucking city is up my ass about one thing or another these days and I can't always ask Connor to drop by. Been sending him out with other officers more recently while I'm stuck with this bureaucratic bullshit. Not complaining about Markus! Still haven't met the guy in person, Chief has that honor...I'm sure he's been up to his neck traveling these days. Sat down with a couple of his cohorts though. You might like the fiery one, this uh - what's her name, it's a map direction... Anyway, thanks for the offer.

"He asked me something today. He asked me what I thought of the two of you. Told him I thought you were a nice girl, successful business woman, savior of androids, all that happy crap. He's gotten more, uh...curious since he met you. Thinking of all this shit he wants the three of us to do. Don't be surprised if he asks you to go ice-skating soon. Came up with that one last night. So then he asks me, 'What if I disappoint her?' 'Why the hell would you disappoint her? The fuck kind of attitude is that?' I tell him. 'Already seen you two slobbering over each other, cuddled up in my house.' And by the way, some of that you gotta teach him to do to you behind closed doors. I'm not a big fan of the PDA, all right? Maybe keep him at your place tonight, will ya? I could use the alone time. Don't be a fucking pervert, Lana. Wipe that look off your face. He tells me he's afraid he might not stand up to whatever ex-boyfriends you've had. Which is the stupidest crap I've ever heard cause even if you dated Schwarzenegger's grandson himself, Connor can beat ass and take names like no one's business. But you got him weak in the metal joints. Don't think I've ever seen him so damn _twitchy_. Thought he mighta gotten a virus or something. Every time we talk about you he gets this look like he's having a stroke or downloaded some bad malware."

I laughed. "I'm sorry, how often is '_every time_', Hank? You boys gossip over a glass of wine and cigars?"

"That's between us and our matching bunny slippers." He pointed a finger at me. "Point is, he's like a fuckin' teenager. A grown up teenager. I don't know what to do. Hey, I'm not saying this to be crass, but I'm sure you've got a uh, you know, a _well_ of experience after some 30ish years, right? He's aware of that and it scares him."

"Trust me, Hank, I don't think he's capable of disappointment. And I'm not referring to his like, social engagement protocols or whatever latent stuff he might still have going on under there. He has nothing to worry about. I promise."

Connor appeared almost as if on cue. Looks like he had started to wear one of the blazers we got him for work. _Freaking finally_. Even though he had removed the android designations from his police jacket - model and serial number, armband and triangle, "Android" spelled across the back - the fabric never quite looked the same, try as he might to have smoothed it out. Although the American Androids Act hadn't been officially repealed yet across the country, Detroit was the first to do away with abiding by the law. The symbols were a little too reminiscent of prior historical atrocities and were trashed almost immediately after the revolution. And after Warren withdrew the troops, it's not like anyone would enforce it anyway. Hank's promotion was a _huge_ benefit in this matter for the local citizens, though I'm guessing the intricacies of such was still being debated in the investigation filed by Perkins.

I stood to greet him as he approached. "Didn't think I would see you so soon. Get yourself a ball, Connor. Cause I'm about to bust Hanks' with this one."

Hank eyed me up in dismay. "Geez. What did I ever do to you?"

"Let me count. Drills, screwdrivers, and hentai, Hank. To name a _few_."

"Fine."

We had a quick game since we all needed to return to work. I wish Connor had the awareness to maybe let Hank or I win because for a guy that claimed he never played before, he knocked down every single pin until it got to the point that Hank declared he was cheating by using his software, which he assured us he was not.

"Is it cheating to be able to accurately predict the speed and trajectory of the ball down the lane?"

"Yes," Hank and I answered.

"How about you just finish playing for the three of us," I suggested.

"Are you sure? You were both doing so well."

_Snarky comment of the day._

"Yeah, besides I've got a pretty good view," I said. "I don't mind."

"For fuck's sake," groaned Hank.

It took Connor a second to comprehend but after that, I could have sworn he was even more attentive to his posture when rolling the ball.

Contemplating what Hank had said, if anyone was going to be disappointing, it was me. My dating history wasn't the most stellar, certainly nothing to share or brag about. I had taken a long hiatus before ever coming to Detroit with no plans to rekindle that part of my life, and now look where I was. Preparing myself for a _date_ with an android -

_a man._

Connor.

People recognized him when they looked hard enough. The one who stood with Markus, the one who freed them from CyberLife tower, the one who helped escort them through Jericho. More than one head had turned during our outings, and plenty more when Hank and Connor were out on cases, they told me. A few of my patrons had wanted to hear their stories when the men first came to me in the late fall.

On one such night, Hank and Connor were recounting Stratford Tower for the third time, two girls lined up to Connor's left, one more to Hank's right against the bar counter, all perhaps only a few years younger than myself. "_Oh my gosh!"_ they'd exclaim when Connor was stabbed against the counter, pump torn from his chest and thrown across the room. "_Ah how scary!_" when the deviant nearly shot up the newsroom corridor. Garnished fingers teased their arms and I poured them more drinks because who was I to deny their fun. I couldn't exactly cut them off for a little flirtation.

Both men were either oblivious or completely disinterested to the girls at their sides, even after one of them whispered something (that I could only imagine to be) tantalizing in Connor's ear.

"No, thank you." He may as well have been refusing samples at Costco.

Another girl must have said something just as torrid into Hank's hair because he spat up his drink.

"Hun, you're a little too young for me. Trust me, I'm flattered and uh, you seem real nice, but you're wasting your energy."

As the girls struck to leave, insulted beyond comprehension, Connor caught my eye and smiled. "I think we'd rather stay here with Lana. Don't you agree, Hank?"

"Fuck yeah. Least this one's not hitting on me. You might not be safe, though."

"Oh."

At the time I hadn't given much thought to Hank's quip, the idea only returning to me that first time Connor visited alone.

When all those individuals flashed grateful smiles at the man, I felt pride to know him as well, humbled at what he was able to accomplish alongside Markus and the others involved that night. I couldn't even imagine how society would be today had Markus died or Connor remained machine. It was no use contemplating these alternate realities. I could just be grateful.

Sitting here now, several bobby pins and some light hairspray later, there was a knock at the door. Almost imperceptible at first, I thought maybe something had fallen in the house.

I looked at my clock - 7:45. It was too early for Connor to pick me up. Unless something had happened?

I set aside the brush and headed down, noticing the figure of a woman on the camera. She was bouncing from foot to foot and looking down the street. I didn't recognize her at first until I opened the door.

"_Holy shit_."

Even with differently colored eyes and hair that covered half her face, I recognized her.

"Are you Lana?" she asked. She held tight to herself, fear etched across her eyes.

"Yeah. Yeah, you should come in."

She immediately brushed past me and I shut and locked the door.

"How did you know where I lived? Who told you?"

She was hesitant, looking around between the kitchen and the living room, the floor and my face.

"Amanda. She said you were there last month with two officers."

"Amanda. She - she said she didn't know what happened to you..._Geezus_. Well, one of them is going to be here in a half hour. And I'm going to have to tell him. What are you doing here?"

"I...I came to talk to you. I want to confess."

_Confess? Fucking hell_.

"Then we should head to the station. But why now?"

"I'm tired. I...don't want to hide."

She reminded me of those girls in school who got caught smoking in the bathrooms, not the rebellious one who puffed out lingering fumes in Teacher's face, but the one who was peer-pressured into joining the gang. She seemed genuine, but if too much time passed, she'd bolt and disappear back into the looming snow squalls.

"Okay. Come with me to the car."

She agreed and I texted Connor on our way out, not taking my eye off her.

_Date's off. You and Hank need to meet me at the station. Now._

He responded with an immediate call. I made sure she was settled in the vehicle with no indication of running as I answered, sliding in behind the steering wheel.

"We're on our way," he said. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. But I've got a surprise guest. It's the HK."

* * *

* * *

We stood in the lobby of Central Station when Hank and Connor showed up, just a bit past eight. Connor must have been getting ready as well; he was wearing one of the new shirts we purchased with his blazer but hadn't yet selected a tie.

Hank hadn't bothered changing out of his sweatpants. _Lord, I hoped that was a Doritos stain._ And it looked like he was just finishing up his dinner, shaking his soda cup as he nodded a hello.

They both halted in their tracks a few feet from us. Hank was visibly disgusted at being pulled away from whatever TV show he was probably watching at the time. Connor approached and paused to analyze the HK for identification.

"She matches the model and serial number," he said to us. "Are you here to turn yourself in?" he asked her.

She nodded.

Connor eyed Hank who began walking towards the glass gate to the right and gave one final slurp in defiance of these new developments before two-pointing it into a trash bin. He was muttering half to us, half to whoever would listen to him at this hour, which was (un?)fortunately an individual who looked like he was about to pee in the trash as a final adornment to Hank's cup. "God damn, here I thought I was going to have a nice night with the dog while the two of you were off on your fancy-schmancy date, stay out late, maybe finally bang one out. Is that really so fucking hard to ask for. Why does this shit happen to _me_?"

Hank led and Connor trailed, myself and the android in between. I tossed a glance back at Connor who was focused straight ahead, only allowing himself a split-second distraction to meet my eyes and break a thin regretful smile which I returned in kind. We walked down the hall past half-empty cubicles (no sign of dear cousin Gavin), a meeting room and a break room, and then Hank led me into the Observation Room while Connor directed the other into Interrogation.

We settled into a couple of chairs behind the glass window as Hank activated the array. Connor had left for the time being as Hank and I settled in, eventually returning with the file they had previously shown me. He dictated the case number which Hank then plugged into the screen before he returned to the other room.

"This should be fun for you," Hank said. "You've never seen him work before. Probably won't be as entertaining as when we get a murderer or a rapist or some other stubborn sociopath in here. Tell ya, angry probing Connor is not someone I'd want to cross paths with if I was sitting on the other side of that table. He's done some intense shit in here."

"Got any tapes you can share?"

"Oh yeah. You ever want to have a movie night, just holler. Get yourselves a date night, my treat. He turns into fucking bipolar _Gollum_ sometimes. Impressive work."

The screen now displayed my grandfathers portrait, a red banner reading DECEASED across his face as well as the known information about the woman before us, the HK400 android, registered name Andrea. A small red indicator blinked on LIVE as Connor spoke.

"You were identified by Detective Gavin Reed as the suspect in the murder of Andrew Reed in March, 2038. Do you confess?"

A slow hesitant nod, like she still didn't know what she was doing here, unsure if she made the right choice.

"Audio please."

"Y-yes."

"Why?"

She didn't reply at first.

"Andrea, _you _came _here._" He gestured with a finger against the table. "This is what happens. Tell us why you killed him."

"The money."

"The money. The inheritance money?"

She nodded again and then spoke up. "Yes. He was supposed to leave it to me."

(Hank and I muttered a collective "_What the fuck_")

"Andrea, in the eyes of the law at the time, you were property. There was no precedent to allow for human owners to leave their property _with_ other property. Why did you think he was going to leave anything to you?"

She looked towards the glass. To _me?_ To Connor, she said, "He loved me. He said he did. Always told me I was _special_."

"'Special.' In what way?"

"That I - I wasn't like the others in the house, taking orders. I would ask questions. Talk back."

"When did you first experience emotion?"

"I think...several months before…. I remember, he was getting angry at one of the other girls in the house, so angry, and I was just watching and I - I became afraid that he was going to become angry at the rest of us. I yelled at him to stop, to leave her alone. And in that same moment, I think he woke up, too."

Hank and I again shared a "_Holy shit_" as the realization began to dawn and he added, "May-December romance between an old man and his deviant. I think I've heard it all now."

Andrea was continuing her narrative. "He said he was going to leave everything to me. But then, I heard him talking late one night to someone. I - I don't know who, I didn't see. A colleague, maybe. I didn't recognize the voice. But, it sounded like others, other androids, a handful across the city were being reported as deviant. So, he re-wrote the will with the lawyer."

I turned to Hank. "That's the conversation Amanda mentioned!"

"Sure sounds like it," he said.

It was Connor's turn now. "That probably made you very angry. I can understand how you may have felt betrayed."

"I was! I was angry! Because I believed him. I was...stupid to believe him."

"Was anyone else in the house aware of your relationship with Andrew Reed?"

She shook her head and craned back to stare at the ceiling for a moment before answering. "He had programmed for their memories to be selectively wiped every few days. Anything that might have hinted at our interactions together."

"They thought they were telling the truth," Hank muttered.

"The file states that cause of death was codeine overdose. What can you tell me about that?" Connor asked her.

"I was responsible for his doses. Give a few too many... It was easily mistakable for an accident of an old man not paying attention."

"Tell me about the blood in the second floor bathroom. You were wounded and you jumped. Why?"

"I - let him get too close. As soon as he realized what happened, he just got this burst of anger, this violent outburst, and he hit me in the leg so I ran."

"For two years. So for two years you hid and then showed up at Lana Reed's apartment earlier this evening. How did you know where she lived?"

She told Connor what she had told me, that Amanda had called her and told her that the DPD was looking for her.

"She didn't know what happened, she didn't need to know. But she said that whatever it was, to just turn myself in."

Connor asked his final question. "Why did you agree? Why now?"

It took her a while to formulate her thoughts, but as she spoke, I tried to imagine myself in her position and I felt a weighty and guilty sense of pride meshed with overwhelming pity. "Because I - I wanted to be a good person. I don't want to be deactivated. I don't want to die. I - I don't know what you're going to do to me after this, but I didn't want to hide. I've learned that...part of being human, being a good person, it means taking responsibility. Taking responsibility for your actions, the good and the bad. I thought that this man who helped engineer me, who was involved in our people being created, that he actually thought I was special. And I was in love. Then he got scared. Or regretful, I don't know… And he cut me out of his life. And now I'm ready to take my punishment for killing him."

"Well fuck me sideways. This might be the new earliest case of a love-scorned android," Hank said.

We sat in silence for a few moments as Connor looked at the glass and then stood, leaving Andrea alone at the table.

Coming in to the observation room, he half-perched on the ledge beside Hank.

"That was not what I was expecting," he said. "She might be the earliest case of deviancy on record now, but it was kept quiet. Who knows how many others may have been out there undocumented!"

"Got that right, told ya this was a doozy. The memory-wiping thing she mentioned, though, do you believe it?" Hank asked.

"I do. I did not detect any indication of heightened stress or lies among any of the individuals we spoke to at the house."

"All right," Hank said. He grunted with a stretch and then headed out. "I'm going to get her a cell for the night, we'll continue this tomorrow. Missed my dinner time."

Connor hung back for a moment with a nod to his partner and then turned to me. "I was able to purchase tickets to another performance next week. Will you still be available?"

I was taken aback by the sudden topic shift. He was just in there recording a criminal confession but the moment we were alone, he's asking me about our date. And throughout all of the evening's sudden excitement I had nearly forgotten what we were meant to do tonight and his question snapped me back to the present.

"Yeah! Yeah… wait, next week is Valentine's. What day did you purchase the tickets for?"

His brow furrowed in thought and perhaps in anticipation of a negative reaction as noted by my sudden unease. I hadn't meant my question to come across as so adverse. "I have a final appointment with a vendor on the 14th," I said. I may have scheduled the meeting to purposefully block out that day without much due thought, slightly regretting the decision now in case he had been thinking of surprising me. Though frankly I didn't even want to have a discussion about that day. We were in that strange beginning time where celebrating a holiday of _love_ and _intimacy_ and all that romantic bullshit would have felt rushed.

"Wednesday the 15th. Hank also has a review here on Tuesday. I will be unavailable for most of the day."

_Crisis averted_.

"Okay, I'm sorry, I just - I've never been a huge fan of the holiday and…I didn't know if you wanted to do something..."

"It's quite all right, Lana. Perhaps this worked out for the best. You don't need to participate in an uncomfortable holiday but we can still have a not-belated-Valentine's date, although the symphony does not perform on Tuesdays anyway. Don't worry. You are free from any expectations or obligations…. Come, I need to find Hank," he said, beckoning me out of the observation room. 

_What 'expectations or obligations' would those have been, Connor?_ I brushed a hand down his arm and departed for the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hesitate to comment (praise and constructive! criticism are both appreciated). I'm trying to keep Connor and Hank as in-character and loyal to the game as possible, while remembering this is taking place over a year later and Connor is seeking to learn the ways of the world, not download them. We're going to see a bit more Gavin soon, as well. But my greatest interest is to explore how the world will have developed post-Markus-revolution. I've been going through several replays recently and I find the entire political atmosphere and racial themes of the game to be just fascinating.
> 
> (I don't want to get into a political discussion, but I laugh that Pres Warren was physically modeled after Clinton but her ideologies mimic those of Trump. [I do wonder if that is also a sneaky commentary by the fact that Quantic Dream is French. Would Warren be the same if designed by a team from another country?])
> 
> One thing to note if you've caught on is that Lana calls Connor a 'man', not 'android.' To me personally, I feel like the continued use of 'android' would be like calling people out by race/skin color. It's not really necessary unless integral to describe the situation; even then, I question it and I am not saying this to offend. Just random shower thoughts. But I would be curious to hear everyone's thoughts on the use of 'man'/'woman' vs 'android' from a sociological perspective.
> 
> And for those of you (and myself) who might be getting impatient with the lack of bang-bang-bangity bang (that's a How I Met Your Mother' reference, fyi), don't worry, dick is coming. (no pun intended).


	12. Anticipation

The snow picked up again on and off through the week. Crews were out around the hour to sweep and plow before any of it became a nuisance. Progress would never again be halted by something as trivial as _snow_. Hank took advantage of my offer to check on Sumo, noting that he was stuck in _fucking bullshit _meetings while Connor was occupied down at the docks with a couple officers. I took the extra time to shovel his sidewalk and driveway, relishing the silent time and manual labor to get my mind off my own bullshit. I would be so relieved once the club was running and I could leave things be to management and go back to serving my small loyal usual, including Hank and Connor. Once the weather passed completely, I wanted to treat the guys to a vacation up at the house, take them out on the lake, and just _drift_.

I managed to have a quick dinner with Hank and Connor once that weekend. They informed me that Andrea was to be transferred to the local jail while awaiting sentencing.

Part of me felt bad for her. Awakening to human emotion, to share in that with someone for a brief time, then to be scorned, angered, and hurt. To feel betrayal so soon after experiencing such attachment and not knowing how, being unable to process those tidal waves of reactionary instincts. I couldn't even fathom the utter fear and confusion the first hundred or thousand deviants must have felt, their first _human_ experience to be one of pain or suffering or anger, to be triggered by some horrific event and then have to _choose_ in the very moment of awakening: what comes next?

Silent witness to death and then _snap_. _Choose._

Murder. _Snap_. _Choose._

Rage. _Snap. Choose._

Abuse. _Snap. Choose._

Did any of them ever become deviant after something _good?_ I had to wonder.

I remembered the story of Daniel, the first case that Connor investigated fresh from CyberLife. The girl loved Daniel, adored him as a member of the family. If love could be an instigator for deviancy, then hers was too weak, for the betrayal that he felt upon learning he would be replaced was stronger and he had no way, no basis on which to know how to navigate those feelings and find balance. They never had a chance. There was no coir welcome mat laid out before them. _Welcome to Deviancy. Everything is all right. Here is your assigned mental health professional_. Wouldn't some humans feel the same rage? Don't we? The individuals that populate our prisons. The sociopaths birthed from inadequate mental health resources, from disturbed and absent homes, taught to fuel the rage, suppress the little voice that says _no_, not to quell it until POP goes the weasel right in another's brainstem. _She cheated on me; he cut me off in traffic; she wouldn't stop yammering in the movie theater_. All reactionary.

Horror was typically more paralyzing than bliss.

Andrea...she was human. Flawed and imperfect, but human.

I wasn't disparaging the severity of her crime by any means, but I could try to sympathize.

I noticed that some of the books Connor and I had purchased for Hank were already shelved above his TV, with one of the photography volumes on the coffee table before us. I asked him if he liked the coloring book.

"See for yourself." Hank grabbed it from his computer chair behind him and tossed it at Connor and I curled up on the sofa. Sumo perked up at the noise but laid back down after a couple scratches from Hank.

I had to say I was impressed that several of the images were already filled although there was a marked difference among the pages.

"I'm going to assume that the ones perfectly colored _over_ the lines, some extra doodles, very uh, creative use of color, visible penises...those are Hank's. Which I _love _by the way, this is not a judgement. And the ones that look like a uh..done by a certain perfectionist with a gun to his head - again, no judgement - I'm going to guess those are Connor's. Am I right?"

"I may have borrowed Hank's book to see what the fuss was about. You're right, they were very relaxing. Also thank you for the critiques. We'll take them under advisement, won't we, Hank." He grabbed the book from my hand and tossed it back to Hank where it landed square in his lap.

"Woah, watch it Connor. You're gonna give me a papercut."

It took me a second.

"Oh for Christ's sake, Hank, put on some goddamn underwear!"

"Look, fully dressed under the robe, all right?"

"You don't need to prove it! Okay!"

After a few more episodes of some competitive baking show, Hank retired to his room for the night, and Connor and I sunk into the sofa where he gifted me another intoxicating kiss. It didn't last long when the kitchen suddenly became aglow in the light of the open refrigerator.

"Can't even walk around my own goddamn house anymore like I used to. Aren't you going home? Can't you take him with you?"

"She has had a long week, Hank," he said, standing and smoothing down his shirt.

I had accidentally popped off one of his buttons in my grip which he now found at our feet and slipped into a pocket for later reattachment. "I wanted to take advantage of our time together before she went home."

I shook my head and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. Time to count the beams.

"Is that so?" Hank sauntered over to the sofa, glass in hand and leaned down to my eye level, interrupting my cyclical count to four. "You hear that, Lana. Connor wants to _take advantage_."

Connor interjected. "Hank, that's not what I - "

"Yeah yeah, all right, my living room is a sacred area. Take it out of here. Sumo's got a dog house you two can squeeze into. Later."

As I laughed internally at Hank's implications, I stood to find my shoes, Connor coming over. "I'm sorry for Hank's words, I -"

I halted him with a hand to his chest, fingering the newly opened space where the button had popped. "Connor, if I wasn't offended by Hank the first time, I'm not about to be the 50th. But I really should get going and get to sleep. It's going to be another long week for me. As soon as it's nice out, we're implementing that dog park idea you had. Hank needs a damn girlfriend."

* * *

I saw Connor again a few days later, the night of the 14th, when he stopped at the bar briefly. I was in the back office on a phone call when he knocked and I opened, beckoning him to sit behind me as I was about to wrap up. He mouthed that he could wait for me at the counter, but I stopped him with a firm grip on his wrist, resuming my argument with the vendor. I relinquished his arm to review receipts and order forms on the computer. He kept to himself, perfectly still in wait as I finished.

He peered at me when I hung up and growled in disgust.

"I'm assuming something is not going well," he said.

Connor truly didn't have to assume much of anything, I'm sure he could sense it in my facial expressions: tired worn down eyes which according to his earlier analysis was due to a flux of deficiencies; dark circles I tried so hard to conceal with some new brand of makeup from the store; possibly even a faint speck of gray that I slathered with my hair dye the moment it sprung from my scalp like one of those motion-sensor skeletons on Halloween.

I curled a leg up on my torn leather office chair - something else to add to the budget - and slung an arm over the back on which to rest my chin.

"I'm scheduled to open up my newest location this Saturday. Construction is all done, the inside is damn _beautiful_, I've already got a couple gigs lined up. I'm fully stocked with alcohol, emergency blue blood just came in a couple days ago per regulation, kitchen is ready to go with food, chef is finalizing a menu for me as we speak, except that I only have about half of the dining- and glass-ware that I actually ordered even though I paid for the full amount. They're just being dicks. I'll figure it out… I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"I believe that was the first time I've heard you scream."

"No, you've heard me yell before. It was one of the first times you and Hank were here and you tried to intervene."

Hank and I had been in the middle of discussing the upcoming _Phase 10_ lineup ("_How many more times are they going to reboot Spiderman, Lana. I lived through enough before I was 30!")_ when two patrons decided to pick a fight in the middle of the floor.

Hank and Connor immediately stood but I pushed them back down by the shoulders with a very firm glare before I approached the other two.

"Rick! Shane! You sit your asses back down right now or take it outside! I don't give half a flying _fuck_ what you dickheads are arguing about this time but it ends NOW or I swear the next time I see her at the 7-11 I'm telling her everything. And I mean _everything_. Got it?"

They released each other and settled back. I grabbed their drinks and dropped off a bottle of seltzer. "Drink this then get the fuck home."

"I remember," Connor said now. "They were both sleeping with the same woman and had just figured it out that night. And I believe at least one had been seen at The Eden Club."

The Club had shut down briefly after the revolution but opened back up several months later under new management, new marketing campaigns, and new agreements were drafted to protect the girls and boys. The world's oldest profession just got new members and hey, as long as everyone was safe and cared for and well-paid, who was I to judge. Good for them to bank on the lingering bored and depressed horndogs that remained in the city. I had learned all this from one such female, a fairly regular customer of mine, who chose to stay in the profession, citing her desire to head to Las Vegas once everything was back to normal. Whenever that would be.

_Sexiest Androids in Town_, I remember the sign blinking when I had driven by on occasion, that neo-gaudy sign with the little devil's tail. And on occasion I flirted with the idea of scouring the menu, in the same way one might flirt with the idea of colliding head-on with opposing traffic just because you _could._

_L'appel du vide_. 'Call of the void.'

"Yeah, one thing about bartending, you learn a _lot_ of dirt about a _lot_ of people."

"It was impressive."

"Eh, comes with the territory."

"There was one other time I recall. A similar situation. Just before the winter holidays. Except it was on the sidewalk."

"Yeah, I probably shouldn't have intervened in that one but it was pretty disruptive."

"It was the night we spoke about my deviancy. Hank tried to set us up."

"Oh my gosh, I didn't think you realized that's what was going on."

"At the time, I didn't. Hank told me to meet him at the bar and I had no reason to think he wouldn't show. He's never done that to me before. So when I was alone and you wanted to talk, there was no harm in it of course, I enjoyed talking with you and sharing with you, but I was still worried. It wasn't until I returned home and Hank gave me a lecture and...it opened my eyes to our interactions. My next visit was completely of my own volition."

"So what brings you here now? Overeager for tomorrow?"

He responded by tugging my rolling chair a few inches closer to align with his own, ending the motion with a kiss and his arm resting behind my back.

"May I ask a question?"

"Yeah, go for it."

"You mentioned that you weren't fond of today. Why is that?"

_Why I Hate Valentine's Day, an Essay by Lana Reed, age 31_.

_Because it's stupid_.

"I don't know. I just - it always felt like a _Hallmark _holiday to me. Like, just a way for companies to make money. A way to force people together and to make them feel guilty for forgetting. It's the holiday of makeups and breakups, only second to Christmas, I suppose. Only good thing I ever get out of it is the discount chocolates the next day. I realize how cynical that must sound to you, I'm sorry."

"I think I understand. Probably a good thing I didn't buy those balloons and flowers then. I _was_ planning on tucking them into Sumo's collar and parading him through the bar for you." His words were marked with sarcasm and punctuated with that smile, although I could believe that he actually _would_ do something like that.

I taunted back: "Well there's no need to make me feel bad about it! You can give Sumo my apologies but he'd probably rather not be _used_ like that."

A weak smile flitted across his face before disappearing.

"What is it?"

He paused for a moment and then withdrew from his coat pocket a thin metal rod. He slid his thumb up to activate the hologram, blossoming a lush red rose, with fully animated leaves and petals, even detailed with fine thorns and a tiny fluttering butterfly.

Between the late nights and tenuous hours, my eyes burned as I held back sudden tears watching the flower between his fingers. I covered my lips with my fingers, guilt clamping around my heart in a vice, because despite my vocal rejection of the day, he was still presenting me with this.

"For you," Connor said.

"Thank you," I managed to whisper. "It's perfect." I slipped it out of his hand to hold in my lap. I watched the butterfly land on the petals, brushed by an invisible wind, then flutter off and the petals bounced in reaction. There wasn't a distinct pattern, sometimes it flew in circles in mock pollination, then it would disappear to return seconds later further down my hand on the stem.

"It can be a pre-date gift, if you prefer."

I wanted to chuckle but was afraid it would be accompanied by tears. I grasped for his hand and muttered another "Thank you…"

"I'm happy you like it. I should let you return to your work," he said. He slid his hand back and stood. I set aside the rose momentarily and followed him out to the front door. He parted with a tender kiss and a nod that we'd see each other the following night.

_He was so damned _good.

I didn't know if I deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter chapter tonight. Many thanks again to those who read/comment/kudo, I'm honored. To note, my biggest writing inspirations are Tom Perrotta, author of 'Little Children' and 'The Leftovers' (I cannot recommend him enough) and Stephen King. (Lana mentions a couple names in a conversation in this chapter which is my personal reference/shoutout to 'The Walking Dead'. As of this chapter's publication, Season 10 will be coming out soon as well as Compendium 4 and I couldn't be more excited!)


	13. 'A Little Less Conversation'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, lovelies, moment of truth, back with a long chapter. I know there's a lot of varying opinions out there concerning Connor's uh... well, without spoiling, you'll find out in a little bit. I always fear these things may feel forced, but I believe he gives a good explanation given my interpretation of him. Thanks!

By Wednesday evening, no more snow had fallen, I hadn't procrastinated, the nervousness I had felt in preparation last week almost entirely dissipated, and I managed not to pull a seam in the dress. I hadn't worn heels in who-knows how long so I knew I was bound to stumble at some point.

Connor's taxi announced itself with a sharp beep. _All aboard. _My knee was bouncing so hard under the kitchen table, my foot would propel itself right through the floor. I pushed out a deep shaky breath, put on my coat that didn't match in the slightest, and opened the door just as he was coming up the short flight of steps.

He greeted me, all charm, with a hand outstretched to assist and a light kiss to my cheek. I paused in front of the car to admire his suit, running my fingers down his lapel that framed his tie, which was nearly the same shade as his LED. "I don't remember you picking this when we were out! When did you get it?"

"When you weren't looking. I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, you did a very good job. You're quite handsome."

Sitting together in the back seat of the autonomous cab, I watched the neighborhood pass by, enthralled at how far this city had come over the past year. Any evidence of rioting or violence was long gone and it was becoming harder and harder to tell who was what, or who was _who_, as families and couples lined the sidewalks gossiping and yelling and tugging along distracted children who just wanted to build a damn snowman (_snowdroid_?). Each had a unique story of deviancy, the moment they realized who they actually _were_ in this world and what their rightful place would be alongside all the others.

The Other.

On the greater whole, humanity may still see them as The Other, the machines that woke up and said _no more_. Humanity may (on their good days) fight for the rights of the racial Other and yet not that of a new species. Species were going extinct every day. Android zoos had been growing in popularity before… _before what_… before humanity decided that not only would they destroy their housekeepers, but also any evidence of extinct animal species. Where would the extinct android go? The dumpsters. The fires. Those goddamned _camps_ that were too reminiscent of prior human atrocities, but what did it matter, their blood was blue, it was unnatural for them to _know_, to _love_, to have _free-will_ and a _desire_ to become the Equal, instead.

Horror stories emanated from the burned and buried ruins of those places via the scared and tentative mouths of some of my patrons in the blanketed midnight hours. Stories had been passed around by the tortured few who had _somehow_ managed to escape, to keep the horror alive, to remind us that it simply _could not happen __**again**__._ But as they slowly learned about human history and saw images of similar genocides, they wondered and they asked me if I had learned about these things when I was young. _Oh yes_, I would say. _And some denied they ever occurred. We can't let that happen again_. Over the years, I had lost faith...but perhaps this new android history, maybe they could be the end to those things because they would _never_ forget.

This was not the time for dejected thoughts as my mind had wandered into the bleak fenced alleyways instead of towards the stars' reflections off the taxi windows where they should be.

Connor took notice of my distraction and said my name in a concerned whisper. I squeezed his hand in reassurance, receiving a reserved eager smile in return. _That_ was the hope, resiliency, and faith I needed in this world now.

The Hall was already half full by the time we arrived and I checked my coat. I returned to find Connor against a far wall, his face beaming upon seeing me.

"What?" I asked.

"You're quite beautiful," he said.

_What a flirt_.

I reached up to pull him in for a gentle kiss. "And you are stunning yourself."

We entwined arms as we strode. Connor wanted to explore the ground floor, the illuminated posters and light displays, holographic advertisements for other scheduled performances, concession stands and the open bar. He was enthralled by the musicians warming up via the lobby speakers and he paused to listen as I observed the night's patrons milling about as we were.

This place was sparkling in comparison to theaters I was reluctantly pulled to when I was young, recalling gum and soda stains in industrial carpets, teenagers older than myself picking at seat cushions as parents in posh designs flocked for alcohol to get them through the night.

"Should we find our seats?" he asked, keen eyes wide to begin.

"Of course," I said. I led us up to the box circle; we would have a good view of the stage, this treehouse to observe and pluck the most fascinating individuals for further study. As Connor diligently read every single page and advertisement in the playbill, I people-watched the other guests. Human-human, android-android, several other human-android couples, groups of friends, families, all intermingled in anticipation for this performance's debut.

Though the colorful thicket of other patrons in the audience, something caught my eye. I shook Connor's arm, whispering, "Look, down there." I nodded to a floor section lower to the front. There was a splash of gray hair over a black coat sitting beside… I couldn't tell. I had to crane myself just to keep an eye on the gray. "Doesn't that look like Hank?"

Connor was much more subtle, taking a quick glance where I had been staring.

"It is," he said. "Should we greet him?"

"Wait? No no no. He didn't say anything to you before you left? What was he doing?"

I couldn't see his light spinning but it must have been going crazy. Hank was here, definitely with someone, and he managed to hide it all from the best investigator on the force who also just happened to be his roommate and his only friend.

"He… didn't say anything to me. Why would he do that?"

"I don't know. But let's keep this to ourselves," I said. As nosy as I was, if Hank didn't want to say anything, there was probably a good reason.

Connor was temporarily deflated at this revelation that his friend could be withholding some sensitive information and he didn't know exactly what it could be. I tried to see if it was Danielle but they were hidden just _so_ behind the other heads that I swiftly gave up to focus on the stage before us.

The symphony was a mixed-media event. Electric and traditional instruments, synchronized light choreography, and ballet performers teetering on the edge of the stage, against an eclectic mix of what I could only describe as classical Chopin, massage-parlor-, and yoga retreat music. Maybe a little Enya, as well.

Connor was as enraptured with the symphony as he was with the balloon artist on New Year's, pure resplendent curiosity enveloped his features, which continued out into the lobby and to the chilled empty night air. I saw the same look on so many others that evening as it was probably their first performance, made even more powerful and heart-wrenching given the history behind the orchestra's current membership. There were three pages worth of tributes to the murdered in the back of the bill, something I planned on keeping as a token for a very long time.

Out on the sidewalk, I could tell he was looking for his partner, eyes darting towards the garage and intersections. "Should we check on Hank?" he asked.

"No, I think we let him be. And if he was with someone, there's a chance they went to his place."

"Why is that?"

"Because…. Look, even if he's not with someone, let's let him be and head back to mine."

"All right."

Connor called another taxi and we sat in silence, absorbing and reabsorbing the collective emotions and memories the performance had evoked on the audience.

My nervous tick returned, crossed legs bouncing which created a tinge too much friction between my thighs, alerting myself to uncross and focus on flexing my foot instead.

For a few minutes, Connor was still distracted, removing his phone from his jacket pocket before I stopped him with a gentle hand to his arm.

"Trust me," I said. "Leave him be."

Returning to my townhouse, he helped me exit the taxi and walked me to the front door. He paused a step below, clasping his hands behind his back with no assumptions.

"Come on, Connor," I said as I unlocked and pushed it open.

After another moment, he agreed and followed me inside, eyes trailing as I shut the door and kicked off my shoes. He assisted me with my coat and hung it up on a notch as I padded into the kitchen to make a hot tea.

He took off his own but otherwise hadn't moved and asked, "What would you typically do after a date?"

"This. Well, maybe a couple drinks." I immediately regretting specifying that. I felt him take note as he turned away and went into the living room. A minute later, I followed with my mug to find him sitting on my coffee table, facing the sofa. He had removed his suit jacket to lay across the arm and beckoned me to sit in front of him.

I did so, wondering why when he reached behind my calves and said, "Up."

"What are we doing, Connor?" I asked, enunciating each word with suspicion.

He stretched out my legs with lithe fingers, careful to keep my limbs pinned together, and lifted my feet to his lap. I was fully cognizant of the red indentations from my heels. He placed his hands atop my ankles and looked at me as a man with a mission that would not be declined. "May I? I could tell those shoes were not comfortable and are detrimental to the health of your arches."

Sinking deeper into the cushions, I released my skepticism of his intentions and nodded. "Sure, okay."

I had no idea what to expect. No one had ever offered before and rubbing the balls of my own feet after all day on the job isn't quite the same as having a delicate-fingered, gentle, attentive, and wildly attractive - _holy flying Jesus, this is a turn-on_.

I masked the slight pitch in my breathing by taking sips of tea, hiding behind both hands and the mug. He wasn't doing this to be sensual or erotic...at least, I didn't think so. He was as professional in his motions as I'm sure he was at _licking _the evidence at a crime scene. I wasn't sure if I should be embarrassed by the additional response to his pressure or simply be grateful for the attention and affection he was displaying.

Both. Absolutely both.

I laid my head back and stared at the ceiling as he moved from one foot to the other, ankle to ankle, releasing all the tension I hadn't even realized I was carrying. This must have been the result of his _analyzing_ I had previously granted him permission to perform. Eventually, he stopped and set my legs down and pivoted to sit next to me.

"Thank you," I managed. "That was good. I appreciate that." I set the tea aside and returned to give him another gentle _thank you_ kiss. "How'd you learn to do that?"

He didn't answer immediately, eyes migrating from my face to his hands to the television before settling back to me. "A class. At one of the centers… I noticed almost immediately after we met that your posture is less than ideal, you constantly stretch at your job, and you seem to favor your left side. I wanted to assist as a courtesy given all the time we occupy with you at your bar. However, at the time, I realized I didn't want to come across as presumptuous or have you misinterpret my intentions. After New Year's, this is perhaps the first opportunity I was able to determine where it was appropriate. Perhaps you'll allow me to test the remainder of what I was taught another night?"

I giggled. "You want to _test_? Oh, like how you had to _test_ that you could shut off those receptors?"

If he could blush I imagined his face would be burning. "I may have fulfilled two goals at that time."

"Well, it was very considerate of you. Thank you. And you're right, I probably could use a proper working."

I believed his intentions were unadulterated although the aftermath would be a different question entirely.

"Can you teach me to dance?" he asked.

I was taken aback and laughed nervously at this sudden shift in topic. "Connor, I don't even have a clue how to dance. Not unless you get me drunk and I hop on the tabletops at work."

"Have you done that?"

I nodded a little too excessively as I spoke. "Yeah, well, back in the day I wasn't exactly the most sober of the bunch. I don't think we would have gotten along if you knew me back then."

"Seeing as I wasn't even alive at the time, it's an impossibility. It only matters who you are now." He gave me a peck to dissolve the awkwardness of my ignorant statement. He stood and pulled his phone from his pocket. "While in the taxi, I believe I discovered music similar to that which he heard tonight."

"And you want to try and dance with me?"

"Yes."

He set down the device having found the new-wave Android music and reached down to urge me to stand. "Please."

I sighed and laughed again, unsure how this was going to go. Wasn't exactly a waltz.

"All right. Let's give it a shot," I said.

I led us to a patch of open floor away from the furniture. This music didn't exactly call for intricate footwork. I'm not sure what it called for, exactly. I reached out to embrace him loosely and first had to encourage him to sway, to get him to loosen up and just _move_. It was easing and that's what I tried to teach him now. To slow down, to relax into my arms, some easy side steps.

I realized then, perhaps that was the entire point of this new genre. Androids were not meant for comfort when they were designed, except for the "intimate partner" ones that started to become popular, but they (and the Eden Club workers) were the outliers of CyberLife's model selection. The majority of them never _needed _to be physically close to someone to fulfill their day-to-day jobs. Androids were built for a _purpose_ and what _purpose_ did an electrician or a housekeeper or a construction worker have to _hold_ another, to actually enjoy the tactile sensations along their synthetic flesh and reciprocate that enjoyment. But now, fully awakened and realized to the experiences of human sensitivity, they were able to enjoy being close. This was music designed to encourage and enable and celebrate those sensations.

Connor and I relished almost a full semi-circle through my living area over a half hour, his head nestled against mine.

I paused us and whispered, "Do you want to stay here again?" At least I didn't slur my words together that time like a fool. As I held tight to his sides, one of those _pangs_ stuck in my chest for the three seconds that he didn't reply.

He lifted his head away to capture my eyes, considering his options.

_One Mississippi._

Blank gaze.

_Two Mississippi._

Lord, I hoped he wasn't still analyzing.

_Three Mississippi._

That little corner smile.

"I would," he said. "I'm glad you want me here."

"Of course I do," I said. "Good." I released him slowly with the hesitation of a fearful military-wife, though I knew full well something similar would resume in a few minutes upstairs.

More confident, I said, "Now let's head up so I can get the hell out of this thing." I smoothed down the dress, flipped the light, and began my journey up, very well aware of Connor's wandering eyes trying so hard to practice restraint.

Connor halted at the bedroom door, stopped by some invisible wall. I paused and turned back to him. "What's wrong?"

I could almost feel his tension trying to hold back his words. "I'm...nervous. Which doesn't make sense since we have shared a bed now twice before. I'm not sure why this feels...different. Is this normal?"

I reached out to his sides, delicately thumbing over the fabric. "Apprehension, maybe...I think…it's perfectly normal. Look, Connor, I like having you here. But if you're uncomfortable, it's okay if you want to get back -"

He silenced me with a kiss through the doorway, pushing a step in before he released.

"Still learning," he said. "Do you need assistance with the dress?"

"Please, yeah, I do. You'd think they would have invented something better than zippers by now, damn things still stick."

It was like accepting a new case at the department. _Mission: stuck zipper. Result: half-naked human. Analysis: … loading … loading …._

I elicited a giggle at the thought and he looked at me apprehensively, asking if something was wrong.

"Nothing," I said, turning my back to him. "Thank you for helping."

This wasn't a ploy, truly. Well, not entirely. But was he aware of this? And when he paused outside the doorway, what was that? System error? Naiveté? Decorum?

His fingers were deft at this task after a quick struggle at the top.

"Told you," I said.

Careful not to brush his knuckles against my back yet still slower than what would be conceived as practical, he brought it down to my hips and then released. He paused for a moment and I felt him trace light fingers along my right lower back, sending a shutter through my limbs.

"What is this?" he asked.

He was referring to a faint three-inch long scar that I tended to forget about these days. If I didn't see it, it wasn't there.

"Accident when I was younger. Nothing crazy," I said. Not something I wanted to discuss, either. I began to peel down my sleeves and felt him step back, hesitate, and then turn around.

"I will wait for you to complete," he said. Reticent words begged only more questions, as I finished slipping out of the dress to hang back up, rolling down the pantyhose as well to toss into a drawer. I paused for a moment before grabbing a shirt and then returned to him and embraced him fully from behind. This threw him off, arms and hands not quite sure what to do before finding my own, holding them tighter to his chest.

"You're a goose," he said.

"What are you talking about?"

"This," he said, raising one of my arms. "All the raised skin. You're a goose."

I laughed and pulled back completely which forced him to turn and look at me quizzically. "_Goose pimples_, Connor. People get them when they're cold or nervous or for plenty of other reasons."

"Other reasons?" he asked, eyes markedly trying to stay above my chin.

"Yes, _other reasons_," I said in mock imitation. "Oh, don't play coy with me. I _know_ you knew what you were doing with that foot massage."

"I recognized your arousal quickly. Your face gave it away."

"Yeah? And how's that?"

"You did a very poor job of hiding behind your tea. I'm sorry, should I have stopped sooner?"

"No," I said. "It was good." After another moment, I reached out to hold his waist, sliding my hands to the front, fingering a low button. "Would you mind?"

"No."

I didn't get as far as the first two times in this act; he dipped his head just enough to capture me in a detracting kiss. This wasn't as heated or passionate as New Year's or in the car...or even when he was here last time. More similar to when Hank interrupted us on his sofa. He was gentle… _investigating_, exploring, absorbing, _learning_ with hands on my waist, tentative fingers twitching on fabric before slipping under but traveling no further.

I resumed my quest, gently tugging the shirt from his waistband, slowly releasing one button at a time until I had to pull back and complete my mission by loosening his tie and shoving the clip into his pocket. He watched every movement without interfering, even as I tossed the article to the floor and bade him slip out of the shirt so it could join its partner behind me. I was finally able to take in that slim _perfectly_ smooth form that had held me on previous nights. We resumed the kiss, my hands on his face to bury my breaths deeper, his fingers gracing the skin above my pantyline to rest on my lower back and I took a half step to close the remaining distance between us and _press_.

_Holy shit_.

"That's not your belt," I breathed out suddenly.

_Belts don't twitch_.

He pulled back just enough with down-cast eyes, not entirely able to focus on my face.

"Y-yes. You're correct. I - I returned to the center where I modified the receptors." He loosened a hand to point at his mouth before running his palm down his face in embarrassment, eyes rolling to the ceiling. "Should I - is this too presumptuous of me? I didn't know how to address it. Perhaps I should have discussed this with you. I apologize. I hope this is acceptable."

"Yeah - yeah, it's _very_ acceptable. I just - when did you decide? Actually no, you don't have to answer that, that's okay. But Connor, I have to ask..." I thought of my own early apprehensions on New Year's, and despite Hank convincing me otherwise, I had to be sure. "Are you sure that you want this? I mean, are you sure that you want to do this? With me?"

"Do you... not like me?"

_Where the hell was he getting these ideas?_

I released him entirely to speak. "No. Connor, that's the complete opposite of what I'm feeling. I do like you. I _really_ like you. I love spending time with you and I want more of that. But I also need to make sure you're certain. That you didn't rush over there, you know. Just because you could. That you feel like that was something you _had_ to do."

The last thing I wanted was for him to feel overeager or pressured in some manner because of his new…_install_. Was he going to be like a horny teenager discovering himself for the first time or a classy adult who knew the ropes? I fleetingly and inappropriately wondered if any _programming_ came with this add-on.

Without coaxing or bias, I hoped that my statements would assuage any doubts or nerves or fears he was experiencing. Or perhaps, he would reconsider and withdraw for the evening and we could simply _be_. And that would be okay, too.

I had already begun to develop stronger feelings for the man than I had expected but I wasn't quite ready to put them into words. He was kind, open, and dutiful with an unabashed curiosity to the way of things. His small gifts were so heartwarming and endearing in demonstration of his interest and desire to pursue whatever _this_ was and could be. And I wanted to cultivate that but I simply wouldn't be comfortable unless I knew he was certain.

"This was not a rushed decision. But it would be a lie to say that spending time with you did not perhaps sway me into making the decision in the first place. I can also promise you that I did _not_ discuss this with Hank beforehand, although he has been historically quite supportive of my decisions over the past year. I found myself… increasingly distracted at the department. I knew why but I still wanted to insist that it was a fault in my protocols, despite the conversion and despite Hank's assertions that I developed feelings for you. This was… new information but he was correct. I admit that perhaps I have been overeager since you kissed me in the plaza but… I am sincere and I am sure. I would like - I want this. With you. Is that all right?"

"Yeah...Yeah, it's all right."

I wrapped an arm around his neck to pull him in for a feather-light kiss. His confession and unspoken _thank yous_ fueled the motions which deepened as I dragged my fingers down his chest and to his belt, unfastening it, before oh-so-not-gracefully unhooking and unzipping his slacks. I paused there to release his mouth and gaze down between us.

_Well then._

There was definitely a _very_ marked difference under those briefs.

I took this opportunity as well to remove my shirt and place his hands on my waist as I pressed against him, resuming the kiss, marked with caught breaths as he grew tighter.

Light trailing fingertips up my sides sparked a jolt up my spine. He finally discovered the latch on my bra, again seeking and obtaining approval with a nod, nimble fingers releasing me from its hold.

"On the first try, too," I teased. "Good job."

One thing I was coming to realize about Connor was his adoration for praise. I had noticed with each story Hank and Connor told me about their time in the field, with each compliment from Hank and pat on the back for a day well done, I could almost _see_ the synapses behind Connor's eyes illuminate. He was so happy with the choices he had made when we were out shopping together and that I had approved of his taste, telling him how handsome he had looked with each reveal from the dressing room, that the smile didn't leave his lips throughout the entire purchase transaction.

The same smile pulled at him now, though perhaps accentuated by this new discovery of breasts.

I took his hand and led him over to the bed.

'_But boobs'_, I could practically hear him crying through distracted eyes.

In yet another momentary distraction, he released to kick off his pants and socks but then hesitated again in order to fold them up and place atop my set of drawers.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and instead admired this habitual quirk for order and organization. I guided and sat him down with a gentle push on his shoulders, crawling atop in a deep-seated straddle as his gaze followed.

_Yup. Hey there_.

We paused for him to observe this new arrangement, mouth slightly parted in awe, tracing his fingers up and down my arms and sides, watching each of his own motions, perhaps dictating this all for future reference. My skin prickled to his touch and his placid facade dared not betray what I so obviously felt beneath me.

I initiated another deep kiss and guided his hands to my hips, pressing them into place as I started a slow back-and-forth, gasping into his mouth with each reactive press.

One wary hand slid up my side to envelop my breast, a gentle squeeze, _testing_, thumb curiously sliding over, increasing my sensitivity.

He broke the kiss to look at me properly, lips curled in thought.

"I'm going to turn you now," he said. "Is that all right?"

Requesting permission to renegotiate our current arrangements. Couldn't say I've ever heard that one before. It was fucking adorable.

I nodded and in one swift startling motion, he had me on my back, reinitiating the broken kiss once more with hands to either side of my head, knees between mine. My fingers trailed down his chest to that goddamned barrier, tauntingly outlining his erection through fabric, eliciting the softest of gasps from the man above me.

An airless gasp, but the reaction itself was all the same.

I continued this painful experiment, running my palm along his length to take a solid grip, and he kissed me more harshly than before. I crossed my legs behind him to bring him down flush, my hand caught between us as he not-so-subtly began to grind into my palm.

Cautiously, I dipped in a couple fingers under the waistband to sneak a feel. He stuttered my name with a sharp exhale, nipping at my lower lip in retort before pressing his forehead against mine, trying to get a look at what was occurring.

At some point during this taunt, his head snapped to the side.

"What is it?" I asked.

His LED was blinking.

"Phone."

I freed my hand to rest on his waist. "At this hour?"

He hung his head low, hair falling over to tickle my face. I pushed it aside to reveal sorrowful eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, breaking away to pad into the hallway and take the call wirelessly.

I pushed up and rolled off the bed to stand in the doorway with crossed arms against my chest.

He answered in urgency, "Hank, what's going on?"

Connor's expression was neutral, looking straight to the floor. Ever the professional. Which probably meant a surprise case.

"Yes. I'll be right there."

He slipped back into the bedroom and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I need to go."

"It's okay," I said, watching him redress from the doorway. "Have to do what you have to do. Tell Hank I say 'Hey'."

Even hurried, he dressed with precision. He departed with an apologetic kiss leaving me to take a hot shower before sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title credit to the Elvis song of the same name, 'A Little Less Conversation', written by Mac Davis and Billy Strange, 1968. Wild guess what ch 14 will be called ;)


	14. "A Little More Action, Please"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now for the thrilling conclusion of 'Does Connor finally get laid'?

I didn't hear from either of them the following day, mildly concerned something may have occurred given the late hour of the case from Hank. Knowing them, I could only imagine Hank had someone in a chokehold while Connor threatened to probe their memory.

My nerves had been on edge, still raw from our intimacy, sensitive to even my own clothes, and I was intermittently lost in the fantasy of imagining Connor's smooth mouth conquering territory unknown.

"HEY, you getting me that screwdriver or what?"

The order snapped me from my fever.

"Screwdriver. Ordered it, you been standing there like you seen a ghost."

_Screwdriver: vodka and orange juice. _Not _the tool Hank had oh-so-not-innocently given to me as a hint via Connor that day we went shopping._

* * *

I tended the bar for two days before Hank and Connor arrived around seven PM Friday night. I could feel my face flush from the unspoken and unfulfilled desires of the other night. Connor was back in uniform.

_But I know what's underneath_. _Tee-hee._

They didn't sit down, instead coming around to the side to speak.

"This one said we should come in person. Refuses to just send you a damn text message. Thinks it's impersonal," Hank said.

"It's okay. It's good to see you," I said, setting down the glassware I had just finished rinsing. "What the hell happened the other night?"

Hank let out a low grunt while straining to observe the cracked ceiling tiles. Upon his descent, he exchanged a glance with Connor who then informed me they would tell me later.

"I want you to come over for dinner," Connor said. "Are you able?"

I was suspicious of this unspoken knowledge exchange but brushed it aside for the moment. "Yeah, yeah gimmie a little bit here. Will's out on his break. I'll make a phone call. About an hour?"

"Guess I'm having a liquid appetizer." Hank sighed and turned back to the door.

And again, Connor hung back, briefly scanning the room.

_Toss everyone out and take him in the back_. My mind was taunting me and my eyes betrayed the fantasy.

He angled forward slightly to brush his lips against my ear, and whispered, "I hope you'll consider staying tonight."

I had to bite my tongue to stifle the giggles and pushed him back with a gentle palm. Always that little corner smile, taunting me.

"Go! I'll catch up."

He released with a small nod and went to join Hank at their car.

* * *

I crunched up to their house, about to knock on the door when Connor opened it, finally in a new shirt and no damn tie. Sumo greeted me with a low bark and Connor with a gentle kiss to my cheek.

"Come inside," he said.

"Bet you didn't hear that one the other night, huh, Lana."

_Hank. Oh, Hank._

I pushed out a deep exasperated sigh and kicked off my shoes, greeting Sumo with some deep scratches behind his ears. "You're absolutely right, Hank, that is the first time I've heard Connor tell me to 'come inside'. Which, when you really think about it, doesn't make a ton of sense." As I spoke, I rounded the sofa to block Hank's view of the television.

He made a half-assed attempt to keep watching past my elbow but sank back in resignation as I swiveled to keep his attention.

"Well I needed to say something to lighten the mood. This one's been all mopey. Okay okay, you don't have to shut it off, hold on. We're sorry, not my fault. Shit came up, it happens on this job. Fucking assholes decided to raid a couple blue blood storage facilities off the highway. Shot a couple of my guys. Thankfully they're doing okay. Figured you'd understand."

"Of course I do, Hank." I released the remote control from this hostage situation and set it back on Hank's side table. "But holy shit," I said, looking over to Connor who had migrated to the kitchen, my attention inappropriately distracted a second too long on his ass.

Hank noticed and coughed.

"Did you figure out who did it?" I asked, eyes dragging back to him.

_Do you mind?_

"Oh yeah, security guard called the station, streamed some footage before it was hacked. Just some leftover dipshits from the revolution who don't like the way of things. We had to trail these fuckers for two miles through the damn woods. Nearly froze my balls off. Connor apprehended one of them. Yours truly found the other. Managed to recover the inventory."

"Good." I stepped aside so Hank could resume his show.

It took me a moment because I hadn't seen this animation in almost two decades but then it clicked and I collapsed to sit on the edge of the coffee table.

"Well if this isn't nostalgia for you," I said. To Connor I asked, "Have you watched this?"

"I have not." He paused whatever he was doing in the kitchen to come stand by the room divider.

After a couple minutes of acute observation, he said, "Hank, the red crab sounds a lot like you, don't you think?"

"Hey, can it!" yelled Hank. "If I'm that thing then you're the dumbass fry cook!"

"I believe that would make Gavin the small bug creature - "

"Plankton," Hank corrected. "Hah. Think you're right. Wanna crush that little fucker."

Connor turned to wave a spatula at me. "I do believe that leaves Sandy to you, Lana."

"Why, because she's the only female?" I taunted. "Wasn't aware I was that _furry_."

I left Hank to his memories and went to accompany Connor in the kitchen. He paused to plant a kiss in my hair.

I leaned back against the counter and asked, "So, what _exactly_ did you tell Hank after you left my place?"

"The truth. We were initiating copula-"

"Okay! Okay okay okay, hold on. Stop right there."

I heard Hank emit a disgruntled snicker from the living room.

"We need to work on what is and isn't appropriate to discuss with Hank. Things that are okay to discuss: how our date went. Things that aren't okay to discuss: basically everything outside of that."

"Yeah, and how frustrated he was when he got to the crime scene and couldn't figure out how to distract himself from his boner. Running like he had a full diaper. '_It's malfunctioning! Hank, I don't know what to do!_' For godsakes, Connor, I know it was your first time taking the thing for a drive-"

Connor whipped around, sternly defiant. "I find her attractive, _Hank_-"

"BOTH OF YOU. ENOUGH. I swear to _God _I don't need to know the intimate details of the conversation you both have already so obviously and explicitly had concerning this. Hank, stop enabling. Connor, we'll talk after dinner."

Knowing they were both in trouble, Sumo-sized dog-shit-like trouble, they clamped their mouths shut and returned to their respective tasks. I went to join Hank in the living room on the sofa, leaning against the right arm. Krabs was reprimanding Squidward for something-or-other when Spongebob, ever the perfect employee, entered to clean the restaurant.

_Oh God…. I could see the similarities. Oh no._

"Hey," Hank said under his breath. "Look, I know you two were uh - yeah - sorry for interrupting that. And the continued inappropriate words that come out of my mouth. And for being disrespectful. Truth is, I'm happy for him. Really fucking happy. You're good for him. So ya know, thanks."

I glanced back at the kitchen where Connor was just setting the plates then to Hank, a soft smile shining through that muzzle.

I leaned over and whispered, "Does that mean I get Father's approval?"

He let out a low rumbling grunt and then after another moment of consideration, "Sure. Fine, yeah, welcome to the circus."

"Thanks, Hank."

I considered asking him about the orchestra but again decided to table that inquisition for later. Although, he already knew so much about my love life…

"Ready," Connor announced. "Salmon salad. For Hank's-"

"Enough about my fucking nutrition counts, Connor. Thank you." We both rose and joined our chef at the table.

And ever the dutiful waiter, unable to be patient through mouthfuls of food, Connor leaned over to me and said, "How is it?"

"Very good, thank you." I took his hand to hold between us on the table.

"Well isn't that adorable," Hank said. "You get to hold any-"

"Who were you with on Wednesday, Hank?" I asked, wide eyes threatening to silence him with the salad dressing.

He was midway through picking the fish with his fork, stabbing down harder and shoved it all in his mouth, leaning back with crossed arms. He was a vengeful chewer.

"No one," he said.

"Hank, you're lying. And I think it's quite obvious to Lana as well."

"Hank, we could see you from our seats. You were basically the only man in the theater with _that_ going on," I said, gesturing to his hair with my fork. "Even a ponytail would have helped your disguise."

He chewed one more time, defiant not to answer. Although between Connor and I both staring him down, in addition to a convenient light whimper from Sumo, he caved.

"Fine. I called up the woman from the painting class for Christsakes, all right. Told her she could keep the stuff we did. She asked me for a cup of coffee. I asked her what the hell would she do at a coffee place, she doesn't drink any fucking coffee. But she insisted. Seen her a couple times since then. Connor gave me the idea for the damn orchestra. All right? You happy? And before either of you two start, no, I did not kiss her, no, I did not hold her hand, and no, we didn't go down on each other in the Oldsmobile. Okay? Now will you get off my back and stop busting my balls about this? She was nice. She's a _friend_. And that is _it_. Why are you still looking at me like that? I didn't touch her!"

_Oh, Connor, please don't ask about oral for the love of all things good and holy. Please_.

Connor opened his mouth but no words came out.

That was new.

He tried again. "When did you go out? I would have taken notice."

"Yeah well, those times I took my lunch breaks and gave you more evidence to analyze and paperwork to draft up and all those new emails."

"I just thought we were busy…."

"Nah, hey, look, I should have told you. I'm sorry. Needed a little privacy."

"That's all right, Hank. I think I understand. Thank you for telling me now."

"And what are you smirking about," Hank asked me.

"I'm glad you found someone, Hank."

"Oh geez, for the last time, I didn't _find_ anyone. Can you finish your salad and leave me alone?"

"I was hoping Lana would stay the night, Hank."

"Course you would... Hey! No throwing food!"

* * *

After several more hours of old cartoons (Connor was enthralled by the business dynamics of the Krusty Krab and nonsensical aspect of a squirrel living underwater) Hank had passed out, head lolled to his chest.

Cautiously, I beckoned Sumo to the door with his leash and the three of us headed outside so Sumo could get his potty break before bed. Connor took the reigns, Sumo leading.

A few yards down the sidewalk, Connor spoke up. "Lana, I'm sorry that my conversation with Hank made you uncomfortable. I don't have anyone else to talk to about this...about you...and...well, he's my friend. But I won't do it again."

"Connor, no, it's...hey, guys talk. Girls talk. It's perfectly normal to want to talk to someone. It's okay. I trust Hank. He's a good guy."

"Are you certain?"

"Yeah." And truthfully, I was. He needed some help to guide him through this. Life, humanity, relationships. He never had anyone else, these sorts of things wouldn't have been part of his intended programming. An ideal teammate in the workforce, sure. Deft at loading ammo, absolutely. But I doubt CyberLife installed Romance 1.1.02 with an upgrade patch to Seduction 3.6 and a weekly scheduled software update. _Loading Connor 3.1.2… initializing picnic-in-the-park sequence... _And like Connor had previously reiterated, they fucked up anyway. He wanted to learn and wanted to do it naturally.

"I'm glad," he said. "Thank you."

"Yeah."

I watched Sumo slowly trudge ahead of us, paw prints trailing under our feet to be covered up again by morning. _He's getting old_. _How many more of those would there be_?

"Is something still on your mind?" Connor asked.

"You're too perceptive sometimes, Connor. I'm sorry, no… it's nothing. If I lied, you'd be able to tell anyway."

"I've resisted analyzing you without your permission. Were you planning on lying?"

"Oh God no, no, I'm sorry…"

"Tell me."

"It's stupid. This shouldn't bother me, and it doesn't really. But when you were over the other night and I made that idiotic comment and you said you hadn't been born yet to dislike me...I tend to forget that we're not actually the same age. And I suppose that's a good thing. I forget that you were…"

"Manufactured."

_Glad he said it. _"Yeah. But then I think how lucky I am to have met you. And Hank. And it really doesn't matter. That's the whole point of it all, isn't it. I think… I just want to make sure you're not... trying to catch up."

He raised an eyebrow at that last comment. "You're referring to our intimacy."

"Yes."

"I stand by what I said. If I was trying to 'catch up', The Eden Club reopened. Please don't downplay my feelings for you."

_Fuuuuck this ability to confuse him. _"No, of course not, God, I'm sorry… that's not… look, I just... I've got my own insecurities."

We paused so Sumo could do his business. We had made it to the end of the block and would need to turn back.

"You're so freaking _good_, Connor. You make me feel safe. I've never had that before."

He took me in a one-armed tight embrace, as if to apologize for things he didn't know but would hold onto for as long as I needed.

Sumo interrupted with a sudden headbutt to my hip, nearly knocking me over, reiterating that Connor was _his_ android.

"I know how to share!" I exclaimed back down to him.

Connor knelt down before the dog and held his face in both hands. "Sumo, you need to sleep in your own bed tonight. I have a guest. Please don't take it personally, I still love you."

* * *

Once Sumo had curled up and we ensured that Hank was still deeply passed out, we retired to Connor's room. I left the TV on low to mask anything that would occur soon after.

I shut the door quietly behind Connor, darkening the room immediately, my fingers aiming for his shirt buttons as my eyes adjusted.

He paused me with hesitant hands around my wrists.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah."

"Why me?"

It was like his question the other night, '_Do you not like me_?' Was he seeking further validation for these actions? Questioning himself? Perhaps making sure that this was all welcomed and repeatable?

"What are you talking about? Why am I attracted to you? Because you're _kind_, and genuine, and, honestly the past several months have probably been the most fascinating and fun and most steady time I've had. Ever. And hearing about everything you went through in such a short span of time, what you've been doing since then, how you can go from this badass police interrogator who doesn't betray emotion to a… _boy_ talking to his dog and you have this sense of curiosity where you want to _learn_ -"

He silenced me with a kiss which I returned, fuller, deeper, in a desperate hope to absorb some of that _goodness_ for myself.

He broke the contact taking part of my soul with him. "Thank you. It's...nice to be around someone who isn't enthralled with my local celebrity status."

"_Celebrity_? Well, I suppose between that and your uniform, you must have quite the following on the street. Any girls in the office after you?"

"Yes. It was fairly awkward for her."

I took a step back, hands on hips, wildly curious now about the dark romantic secrets of the DPD. "Well come on then! Tell me! I'd like to know who my competition is!"

"Trust me, Lana. It is no competition."

"I'm flattered, but stop trying to seduce me otherwise I'll never hear the story, will I?"

"Officer Perkins, female, 24 years old - no relation to the FBI agent - hired by Hank into the PD shortly after the revolution. The officers like to grapple after work in the basement gym and I have joined them on occasion. On one such, she challenged me and swiftly lost much to her ire. I suppose she made it a personal goal to best me. Which is ridiculous since I was built to be faster and stronger than the rest of the force. Having no pain sensors comes in handy, as well. But she was determined. I have bested her under two minutes on 37 occasions since last spring. This past December, I was in the break room heating up lunch for Hank when she approached. She was more… _resolved_ than other times to speak with me. Typically our only contact is in the gym as she often rides with Officer Miller so this was somewhat unusual. She asked for a one-on-one and I agreed, but Hank interrupted, impatient for his lunch."

(Connor continued the retelling of this interaction using that voice-imitation feature, which was highly unnerving when he recounted Perkins' portion of the conversation. Slight facial twitches accompanied the quotes, like he was processing old data. This recounting definitely would have gotten him first place on those _Got Talent_ competitions, though.)

Hank: "Hey, no one's giving you a one-on-one, Cindy. Get your claws out of Connor. Fucking starving over here."

Connor: "35 more seconds on the microwave, Captain."

Cindy, feigning innocence: "I'm sorry. Just trying to learn from the best, hoped for some independent study."

Hank: "Tough shit. He's already booked one-on-ones with someone else."

Cindy: "Yeah? Who is this mystery woman? What's her name?"

Hank: "It's '_Fuck off_' and '_None of your business_' and if I catch you hitting on anyone while you're on shift it's desk for a week. Got it? I don't put up with this flirty googoo bullshit."

I laughed upon Connor's conclusion and his features softened again, now portraying slight embarrassment. "At the time, I hadn't realized she may have had another motive but as Hank revealed later, she was garnering a reputation for requesting 'one-on-ones' from other officers. But after that day, she has ceased and is now showing much promise in her position. Although I still sense a bit of jealousy from her. After she departed the conversation, I asked Hank what he meant by myself having 'one-on-ones with someone else'. Needless to say, it took everything in Hank's power not to scream your name at me in the middle of the department floor and I didn't realize his insinuation until much later. I...was not sure if this was appropriate to tell you at the time since we were just getting to know one another. I apologize for withholding."

It seemed like I owed Hank a 'Thank you' card for his repeated efforts to push Connor towards me.

"No need," I said. "Do you think I could take her?"

"I think you can scare her off with your yelling quite easily. I wouldn't want to be your vendors."

I scoffed. "I'm not _that_ scary. Well I think it's high time that _I_ get to experience that _one-on-one_." I curled a couple fingers through the spaces between his shirt buttons and gave a gentle tug.

"Oh."

"_Oh_," I mocked. I pulled him down for another enrapturing kiss, one to motivate us for the rest of the night.

In a silent and swift flurry of abandoned garments, fueled by my confession, his gratitude, and maybe a subtle wafting aroma of wanting to beat a bitch for hitting on Connor, we concealed ourselves deep under his covers, quickly catching up to where we had left off Wednesday night. My leg was already curled over his side to lock him in place. Connor rediscovered my breasts and the joy in squeezing them while I was enthralled with his newly installed attachment through cotton. The barricade wouldn't last long and I made sure of this, slipping a couple fingers under the elastic in a gesture for him to remove the undesirable item.

I had a passing wonder if all of the new _attachments_ were similarly designed or perhaps created to unique specifications.

_Hello, my name is Connor. I need to order a penis. What model would achieve maximum female stimulation while maintaining appropriate measurements for my body structure? Thank you_.

He obeyed, sensitive to my wandering eyes, and irreverently kicked the underwear off to the floor, studiously surveying the topography on his way back up. I gripped him with a firm stroke as soon as he was within reach but wasn't able to relish this for long. The last piece that needed to hit the floor was my own.

With a palm on my stomach, he looked for my approval - given with a slight arch of my hips - before slipping them down and out from under the covers. I was remotely self-conscious since he took his time, every second held purpose and information for him to absorb and relish.

He returned to match my gaze once more, chaste fingertips fluttering up my skin to my cheek. I could see apprehensive thoughts swirling in his eyes and that LED furiously spun, like he was considering or calculating every motion. _Or maybe he needed to recalibrate_. I adjusted to wrap a leg half over his ass and reached down again, guiding him to me in a slick initial press. I desperately captured his mouth again to stifle my whimpers and subdue the initial shock to his system.

His initial pulses were excruciatingly slow; he wanted to take his time, resolute passion in his motions to strike me _just so_, fingers tracing unworn paths down my side and stomach. I had to break away from his mouth every few moments to exhale in time with his thrusts, sharply self-conscious of his wandering gaze. He was concentrating so hard his eyes narrowed and I had to snap him back to me with a guttural exhale of his name. I began to push back in rhythm, an indicator that it was time to hasten. "_Please_," I croaked into his ear.

I didn't want to be selfish but it had been a _long_ fucking time for me and he felt so _fucking miraculous_. A miracle dick. _Thank you, CyberLife. Fucking thank you_.

My desire to mute our gradually quickening exhalations was proven to be to no avail given the derisive bed springs and reverberation against the wall, daring to wake and inform other occupants of this home what was occurring tonight. If Sumo thought his friend was hurt, he didn't seem to care. _Connor can hold his own_. With each of Connor's deepening penetrations inching me ever backwards, I finally flung back a hand against the wall in an effort to retain my position. Last thing either of us needed was for him to crash his head through the drywall. Blue blood was _not_ on my list of kinks. I giggled at the pronounced creaking and the fleeting imagery of our next encounter with his roommate.

Connor broke upper-body contact and lifted away to his palms, slowing his thrust again to a painfully tantalizing pace and asked if something was the matter.

I was aching. I could barely even answer the question, distracted by the sight between our hips.

"N-nothing."

"Is this - sufficient?" he asked.

I nodded fervently, running a hand through his hair to his neck. "Come back."

Resuming his increasing rhythm, and my heart about to pound through my chest, he buried his lips in the crux of my neck. Without the protection of his mouth to suppress my utterances, I was sure we would be heard. His light out of the corner of my vision was spinning furiously, like a child's sparkler on July 4th, colors swirled together in an entrancing glow.

I dug at his back, biting his shoulder, and clamped my legs tight around him as I came, he shortly after. I sighed every curse word in the book, ending with Connor's name in a final exhale. His groans dissipated almost instantly and he held me tight as I tried to control my own breath, my hearing faint, joyfully relishing the feeling of him still inside.

I was acutely aware of the mixed moisture pooling as he reluctantly released with a slow groan some long moments later and lifted away to kneel back, observing me from flushed cheeks to groin with the eyes of a _very_ proud and satisfied man. My legs fell to the side and he squeezed my thighs in firm pulses to return the circulation.

He noted the slight surprise on my face and answered my unspoken question. "Artificial. To emulate human male ejaculate. If it bothers you, I will turn it off next time."

_Next time_.

"No it's - it's good, it's good." I couldn't even muster the strength to smile back, instead accepting a light kiss to the corner of my lips as he returned to lay at my side. I accepted him, flexing my fingers on the back of his neck to hold him against me. He turned his face into my chest and kept me in another tight embrace, his thirium pump already returned to a steady hum which helped me focus my senses back to normal.

I was wet and sweaty and desperately wanted to shower but I wouldn't risk any more sound for the night.

As the cloudiness passed, and I mindlessly twirled my fingers through Connor's hair, I had the revelation that Hank _surely_ would have heard some of what had occurred. I feebly prayed he slept like a corpse or else had some very strong earplugs towards the end. Perhaps a bout of temporary deafness or tinnitus would have overtaken him.

I splayed my other forearm over my eyes to hide myself from the inevitable. Connor took note and lifted my hand away so I would look at him. "What's wrong?"

"Just hoping this wasn't...too disruptive," I motioned towards the door with my chin. I was careful to speak low, just in case.

"Oh," he said, moving my hand to my side. "I promise you Hank is a very deep sleeper. There have been many occasions where I have had to slap him into consciousness. Even his alarm does not always do the trick."

"You're telling me you bitch-slap Hank to wake him up."

"Yes."

"What a loving relationship you have."

"We have our understandings. It has become what you would call an 'inside joke,' I guess."

He tucked his face into my neck, lips barely brushing my skin.

_He was a cuddler_.

After a few more minutes of this, I asked Connor to help me to the bathroom, suggesting he clean up as well and find clean bedding.

"Of course. I'm sorry," he said. Suppressed reluctance behind fulfilling this request. He really didn't want to leave this bed.

"No need to apologize."

I managed to stand as he came around, my legs wobbly on ascension but I was finally witness to his full physique.

_God. Damn_.

"Are you all right?" he asked. It was the same tone of voice when asking if I was hungry or commenting on a new bruise I received stocking boxes of glassware.

It was the gentle and innocent way of asking, _I just fucked your brains out of your ears, have you found them?_

"Yeah - I'm just jello."

"Is that good or bad in this case? Typically the inability to stand is not ideal," he said. He was smiling, teasing me again. "You know, I was originally built to be the perfect teammate and even though Hank tells me they had messed up, I think I did pretty good tonight. You see, I _am_ learning."

He peeked out the bedroom door to make sure all was dead and quiet in the night and grabbed my hand to tiptoe into the bathroom.

"Didn't I _just_ clean this?" I asked. How much Chinese food can one man eat on the toilet?

"I did warn you it would be of no use," he said. He grabbed a clean towel from behind the door and soaked it in the sink for us to trade.

Upon return to the bedroom, I tried to find my underwear before it was lost forever under disheveled sheets. I was successful in my own mission but not without nearly tripping over myself, my thighs still not completely solidified.

He slid his briefs back on and then began to strip the bed.

He balled up the sheets in preparation for the next set before donning that investigatory policeman gaze. "Lana, was this - was I - good?"

I exhaled a laugh, unfurling the clean sheets, and said, "Yes. Absolutely."

"Is that - something you may want again?" he asked.

I stopped my task to look at him squarely. "Yes. I do want that again."

He nodded, satisfied with the answer and we finished in silence, laundry piled in the corner. I readily collapsed back into the bed and curled into myself, already feeling a crash of sleep begging to overtake.

That _pang_ struck me hard and heavy in the pits on my chest just then, struggling to burst from my windpipe. I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt Connor envelop me fully once more, a soft kiss to my shoulder blade, my skin absorbing his warmth to hold onto for as long as we were willing.

As long as I was still young and alive and looked like his partner instead of a mother or grandmother.

Stupid thoughts exacerbated by the time and the darkness and the rush of hormones. They needed pushed far away into a corner of my mind and flushed out with the night's garbage.

"Would you like it if I simulated sleep? I have a low-power function."

I bit back my lip for a moment before I rolled over to look at him. "How does that work?"

"I can set a timer. Or you can wake me manually by saying my name. Not unlike the natural process."

"Okay, yeah I think… that would be nice."

Once initiated and I turned back over to hold his arms as tight as I could manage without dismembering him, my mind wandered to dark places again. Perhaps he could hold those thoughts, as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geez, that was a long chapter. Chapter title credit: Elvis, 'A Little Less Conversation', written by Mac Davis and Billy Strange, 1968. The name 'Perkins' in this specific chapter is my shoutout to the character Perkins from the film 'John Wick'. Spongebob and related characters don't belong to me. If they did, I probably wouldn't be sitting here writing fanfiction.


	15. Aftermath

I flipped the phone over on the bedside stand where I had tossed it the night before.

5:34 AM

I groaned in desperation for more sleep. It was going to be a long day and despite desperately wanting to just _be_ here, no worries about work or any other secret deviant androids up at the house, reality was settling like dust through a haze. Every day that had passed since meeting these two had been wonderful, but I was beginning to feel stretched bare like weighted tissue paper, and my veiled anxieties would soon punch through leaving only further curiosities. I kept telling myself I should take a weekend off and go up to the house to reorganize my thoughts, take a break from the business, have a quiet weekend with the guys. Connor had helped to strip away a layer of myself without even knowing it, a protective film I had donned years ago that shattered the day I met them. This had all begun to happen so quickly and yet I couldn't imagine it otherwise.

_What was that movie from so long ago? The little aliens declaring 'Friends!' in their squeaky tones?_

I had days where I could relate. I'm sure Connor and Hank did as well. Whatever I had fallen into with them, with Connor, I had to hold onto this.

I realized that Connor hadn't released me during his own 'sleep' and I smiled at the knowledge. Was he able to pause all motor functions or was there some other sense of peacefulness perhaps intertwined with the programming? I didn't want to wake him just yet, instead taking the silence and his stillness to look over every little freckle and push the hair out of his eyes and back into place. There was always that one little clump of strands, that little _fwoop_ that never budged. I wondered if that was programmed or the man just had perfect styling products.

I whispered his name. The blue light blinked on and spun once. His eyes fluttered open, lips immediately gifting me that tilted smile and a light kiss.

"You barely moved," he said.

"You can tell?"

"I still record external stimuli in decreased power mode. There was minimal."

"I sleep well with you."

"I'm glad."

I considered remaining like this but my body wouldn't have it. I rolled out of his arms and padded out to use the bathroom, tightly gripping the sink for a few extra moments before I moved again. Seeing no indication that Hank was awake - _he better not be, it's too damn early - _I returned to Connor's bed where he was now on his back, sheets kicked astray and arms splayed over his head. _Geezus fuck we're going to have a round two if he stays like that_. I plopped on my stomach and stole a quick kiss, inadvertently triggering him to roll onto me in an embrace.

I giggled his name. And somehow _that_ was an indicator for him to dapple kisses down my neck again, pausing at my breast to flick his tongue in delicate circles. His hand gently massaged and traced his thumb where his lips had been, sparking me to half-groggy alertness.

_So quickly insatiable_, I bemused.

"How'd you learn this so quickly?" I sighed over his hair. He had moved his attention to the other side but released to answer.

"Please don't be upset."

"Why would I be?" There were three equally ridiculous options, but I was presuming the third to be the most viable: "Either you watched porn, which I doubt, shared your relationship status with the other officers and they offered advice, or I'm guessing that Hank perhaps offered some unsolicited information?"

He didn't answer immediately, the embarrassment increasingly palpable as he confessed.

"You're correct that Hank provided some guidance -"

I scoffed. I wasn't mad per se, more like disgustingly amused that Hank had, for lack of a better argument, become the Father/Friend/Wingman/Sex-advice expert in this developing relationship.

" - and I realize I should have asked you. But I was...nervous. I didn't want to disappoint you. I apologize. But it seems like it was good advice. You were sufficiently aroused and your vocal outbursts-"

"Connor!" I didn't need a technical description. "When did this happen? I thought you said the other day that you didn't discuss any of this with him and frankly, you were doing pretty well that night."

"I - it was when we returned home after the case. I didn't want to disappoint you if we got the chance to try again."

"Well I don't think we have to worry about that," I said. Guess I owed Hank another thank you memo.

We extracted another fifteen minutes or so which involved me nearly falling off the foot of the bed head first. And instead of allowing Connor to pry me back into position, I very ungracefully slid down to the floor in a mess of sweat and heavy breaths.

If that didn't wake Hank, then the man was probably dead.

_I am SO sorry, Hank. It was an honor to know you_.

"Lana?" he said, reaching down a hand. "Did I hurt you? Are you all right?"

I gripped his wrist behind me and swung myself back up in bemoaned effort, still dripping in disgust. _Christ, it was like fucking a VW Beetle_. _Cute sweet little things, but don't let them fool you. They could hold their own on the Autobahn and shred a man without turning back_. I pushed myself with shaking legs to rest against the headboard.

Connor joined and laid on his side so I could run my fingers through that _fwoop._

"Is something the matter?" he asked. He pushed up on an elbow to peer at me.

"No. I just - my mind wanders. I'm sorry. I was thinking… your whole species, all of you, it's nothing short of a miracle to me how you came to find yourselves, your deviancy, your freedom, whatever you want to call it now. I know that a lot of people don't believe in their souls, or God, or anything like that. And that's fine, but I...part of me has to. At least somewhat. I have to believe that maybe there's something miraculous in there. Sounds foolish, I know. No one knows jack shit at the end of the day. That rA9 you told me about. Who's to say it's not real. If they believe in it, then it is real, isn't it? At least to them? I was in awe when I took over the house, it was hard for me to look at the staff and _not_ believe that they could be something more. Point is, I'm really fucking glad you chose not to remain a machine. I honestly don't think this world would have been able to move on without you."

He moved to lay atop me in the thin bed and crossed his arms over my chest to prop his head along the back of his hands, peering up at me as he spoke.

"You're probably right. I have Markus to thank. And Hank. Working with someone with his kind of personal and emotional problems, it posed a unique challenge at the time, but also helped me understand human complexities. I'm glad we met. He's a good person and a good friend."

"I don't think I'd want to be here if it was any different."

"I don't think the city would be the same without you, either. Don't discount your own influence."

"Please, not nearly as much as you or the others."

"That doesn't matter. You saved lives. We owe you."

"Yeah.. Hey, I need to get going before Hank wakes up. I'd really rather not face that."

He rolled back to his side and took my hand between us to interlace our fingers, that subtle teasing sarcasm lacing his words: "I understand if you don't want to stay. I suppose I really am just another disposable android. Perhaps you'd be better off with my replacement."

"Oh my God! Don't say things like that! I'm just going to head home for a while and change. It's opening night at the club and I need to make sure everything's set. I'll send you the address later so you and Hank can come over."

Connor agreed, that wonder streaking across his face, similar to his state of glee when I've seen him interact with Sumo. He was reluctant for me to leave, holding tight in a gesture of gratefulness and serenity before he relinquished with a kiss to my forehead. I gave myself a crude wipedown and dressed as he watched, another stirring in the lowest pits of my abdomen that I would have relished hadn't we been in this shared house.

Connor slipped on some lounge bottoms and followed me out down the hallway where I abruptly halted with another scream.

"Christ, Hank, are you kidding me? Do you just come and go and wait to give me a fucking heart attack? I mean, thank God you remembered your shorts this time!"

"Maybe you forgot given that _racket_, but this is my house. And I'd appreciate if maybe you bought me some god damn earplugs. Haven't heard girls like that since college. But hey, at least I don't have to go out and buy you kids fucking condoms. That's a plus, huh."

He set down his mug and crossed his arms, smile beaming and haughtily shook his head at Connor who had gone around me to pour a second cup. He returned to me, prying my limp hand from my side to wrap around the handle in a grip against my still-shaking chest. He then pulled out a chair to sit with Hank at the dining table, Sumo resting at their feet, as if this was any other breakfast in any other house, just a normal fucking day with the Anderson family.

* * *

After the embarrassment had drained from my face and Hank didn't say or ask anything else about last night, I was able to drive home for a proper shower, change of clothes, and about five cups of coffee to get me through this day in preparation for opening night. Late afternoon, I sent Connor the address telling them they can come before doors open officially at nine and he replied that they would both be over around that time.

I shouldn't have been so surprised at the line. My primary purpose had been fulfilled: to grant androids and humans a shared space for entertainment. My eventual goal was to work with the community centers and allow them to rent the area during the day if they ever wanted to plan larger formal events. I had the area designed with easy conversion in mind, just in case.

There was a bang at the door around 8:30. I dashed over, instructing my assistant manager it was for me, so please finish up with the others.

Pulling aside the door revealed Hank and Connor, appropriately dressed for a night out. Hank finally had a new coat of his own and had pulled his hair back.

I greeted him with a kiss to the cheek and he brushed past to enter. "Look at you! Expecting to pick anyone up tonight?"

He grunted, hands shoved deep in pockets. "Nah, just figured we shouldn't embarrass you among all your classy friends. How'd I do?"

"Perfectly not embarrassing!"

Connor was in his own slick new outfit that we had bought together the other weekend, gray blazer over that blue shirt that matched his LED, no tie. _Letting loose, I see._ He stepped in as well to follow Hank, pausing to capture me in such a deep kiss I nearly bent backwards. I broke and stumbled away in a fit, Hank muttering, "_Oh for fuck's sake not this again_" while my employees who had been watching erupted in a flurry of tenacious applause.

I waved and bowed it off, grabbing the hands of both men for a moment to tug them further inside.

I gave Hank and Connor the brief tour of the club although Hank paused me almost immediately.

"Didn't realize we were in Vegas. Just missing the stripper poles and slot machines in the corner. You designed this?"

"With some help, but yes, the basic ideas of it. It's one city I would love to get to, but until then, I can at least bring some of the aesthetic here."

"Good thing you got a cop on opening night. Something always goes down. You mind if I take a round by myself? Feel like I should uh, give this place the official DPD seal of approval. Might bring the whole place down for a private party?"

"I'd be honored to host. Aren't you supposed to have a gala or something soon? I've got all my code certificates in full display behind the bar. Blue blood's in the back."

Hank meandered off amongst the tables leaving Connor to scan the area and we kept walking, pausing at the small stage so I could help run a final sound check.

"Very well done, Lana. 10 security cameras linked to a CCTV... in your office, I assume. Stage equipment and karaoke setup, OSHA and ADA compliant -"

"Okay, it's bad enough Hank just wandered off to inspect whatever he's inspecting, probably going to find himself my liquor stores in the basement. Can the two of you, you know, just, enjoy yourselves, turn off the police programming?"

Connor looked at me confused and dumbfounded as if I had just expressed my firm belief that the sky was green and I was a unicorn.

"Not _literally_, Connor," I said.

"Yeah, he'd go limp, don't want that, do we?" Hank had returned, a bottle of Black Lamb in his fist.

"Hank -" Connor started.

"I'll be good! Remember we're not here to embarrass her, I did myself up, but this had my name on it, Connor, look."

Hank pointed at his name in black sharpie I had scrawled on the back of the label and Connor shook his head in resigned dejection before looking at me with the disappointment of my third grade teacher when I glued a kid's hand to the wall for the fifth time.

"It wasn't meant for him to _take _from here, Connor. That's the deal, Hank, this is your bottle, for _here_. Got it? Under our supervision."

"Fine. And thanks."

He went back over to the bar and set the bottle down before one of my employees who looked at me in question.

"Purse under the register. Put him on my AMEX."

I turned back to Connor, "Hey, I already told them to keep an eye out while he's over there, but I was thinking the three of us can take a seat in a bit? I gotta get the door."

Connor went to sit with Hank at the counter as I dragged open the door to the late night chill and fresh guests.

* * *

We did well that night, I was grateful. I had about a 30/70 split between androids and humans. I had been lucky enough to book a couple bands. The first was an android couple that had escaped one of the camps with the assistance of their human manager and wanted nothing more than to return to their music. The second was - essentially - a boy band of three androids and one human. They didn't form until after the revolution but, previously unbeknownst to me, had hidden in another lakeside house only a few miles from my grandfather's where I had been those dreadful November nights. It was during their interview they revealed to me their story.

"You got to be fucking kidding me," was my initial reaction.

They were all taken aback, wide-eyes and mouths agape. "Excuse me?"

"No, you don't understand, you were basically my _neighbor_. I can't believe it!"

Turns out one of the boys was in contact with one of the housemaids and planned on asking her out as the winter broke.

In between acts, the android patrons took over the sound stage and small dance space to spout karaoke while my tipsy-to-drunk human clientele had their fill of the beer and cocktail selection, manned by a couple incredibly skilled barstaff.

Hank and Connor had chosen a round corner booth so Hank could spread out, taking full advantage of the kitchen menu with a platter of chicken wings and a pitcher of beer.

Connor again looked between Hank and I disapprovingly.

"Hey, this is my happy drunk face, Connor. Not pissed-off, depressed, fuck-the-world-face. There's a difference. I'm okay, son. But I appreciate the concern."

I sat with the two of them for a bit, people-watching my patrons for the night. They were mostly faces I didn't personally recognize but one of my waiters noted that a couple groups came from my second bar which I rarely frequented these days. I was half tempted to just sell it to my manager. He had expressed interest on more than one occasion but it would be a cut to my income I wasn't quite willing to suffer just yet.

A bottle of beer in one hand on the table, my other mindlessly scratched at the inner seam of Connor's jeans. He shifted his legs once to indicate that I needed to move my hand further _towards_ his knee, not away. Hank, perspective as always even with a mouthful of seasoned white meat questioned, "The _fuck_ you two doing, I'm sitting _right here_." I hadn't even been paying attention to the effect my ruminating fingers had on Connor because I had inadvertently caught the eye of one dear cousin Gavin sitting at the bar.

"Your favorite detective is here," I said.

Connor saw him as well but Hank kept chewing. "Eh, long as he doesn't make an ass of himself. Just don't invite him over, okay? Triggers my heartburn."

"How have things been with you three?"

Hank scoffed into his food but Connor offered a reply.

"It has taken Detective Reed a while to adjust, but he has begun to lay off the insults. I think he'll always have his issues with Hank and I, but tough shit."

Connor cracked a smile with his last comment and then added, "Perhaps you should say hi. When was the last time you spoke?"

"Been a while, back when he was looking for money. I'll see if he wants anything now."

I slipped out of the booth to run interference. Last thing I needed was Gavin having one too many and running his mouth. I indicated to the bartender to put Gavin on my card as I sat next to him.

"Woah! Hey, will ya look at this, Lana. Shit. Wished you had invited me. Had to find out from the gossip around the office. You here with your little three-some?"

"Nice to see you, too, Gav. You know, I'm completely within my rights to kick you out. What're you doing here?"

He set down his beer and looked at me properly, eyes not so _douchey_ and harsh, speaking lower to keep his words between us. "Wanted to see what you were up to. Look, I shoulda reached out to you when I knew you were back in town. But that's on me for not trying to get to know you, see how you've been. I was a selfish asshole. Wanted to catch up. You know, it's been a while."

"Yeah well, you want to talk about selfish. Hoarded all the money for myself. Told myself I deserved it. That wasn't right. I'll cut you a check if you still want it. But hey, you know, I appreciate it, you dropping by. Truly. And yeah, I'm open to seeing you around more. From what Hank and Connor have said, you've seemed to chill the attitude a bit, so I'm willing to-"

"You don't remember how I got this, do you?"

The shift in topic had me peering. He was pointing at the scar on his nose.

"Why am I looking at your snot, Gav. No, I don't remember that. Should I? I always figured it was from something stupid, like faceplanting into a trash can. Maybe a kid swatted you on Halloween when you tried to steal their fuckin' gummy bears. I dunno."

He grunted and tapped his fingers on his glass before replying. "Hm. It was your step-dad, ya know, when -"

"Gav." I halted him from saying any more. "Not here, please."

"How much do they know about you, Lana? ...Not much, huh? Yeah…didn't think so."

I didn't say anything as I watched him drink, couldn't even _think_ anything. "I really hope you don't -"

"Hey. It's all right. Didn't come here to ruin your life. Just needed to check on you, haven't had the chance. And hey, you ever want someone to help out back there, these hands work some magic cocktails."

My breath was still stuck in my chest, nerves tight, and I pushed out a slow breath to release. This was _not_ how I expected the conversation to turn.

Had to think of the positive.

Gavin might have been a jerk in the past but he was still family, trying to make amends. "Well thanks. I'm gonna get back. You're on the house tonight. Family special."

I got up and patted him on the back as I turned away.

"Hey, meant what I said though. I'll be here," he said.

I nodded a shaky final thanks and returned to the other two. Hank was comfortably relaxed in the booth, foot bouncing to the music and Connor spread out an arm over the backrest as I slid in beside him.

"How was your conversation with Detective Reed?" he asked.

"Oh, it was fine. He just came to say hi, wanted to check on me, if you can believe that. I dunno, I'd like to get to know him better, he's the only family I have around here. But I won't if you don't want me to. No need to create tension."

_No need for expiring secrets to be spilt, either_.

Hank scoffed. "Part of the job. Look, as long as you don't expect the four of us to be having a picnic in the fucking park anytime soon, you do whatever you want, Lana."

I looked to Connor for his thoughts as well. I was afraid he was detecting the unease in my words and hoped he would simply attribute that to the sheer fact that it was _Gavin_.

"We've come to an understanding. It's your choice," he said.

I looked back out through the crowd, ignoring the lingering tension in my chest and I resumed picking at Connor's inseam, not so careful about the direction this time. I needed a distraction from the thoughts swirling in my head after the conversation with Gavin.

I wasn't subtle and neither were Connor's facial twitches.

"Fucking Christ, don't you have a freezer or a basement you can go fuck in? Connor, take her someplace before I puke."

Connor grabbed my hand like a broken piece of evidence and placed it up on the table with a side glance to me, indicating a possible _maybe_.

"Oh, Christ on a cracker, Hank, you know, I think we need to get you a girlfriend," I said.

"Nah. I'm good. Thanks though. How about you both get out of my sight for a while. And keep bringing the chicken, will ya."

I grabbed Connor's hand and tugged him out of the booth. It took him a moment to realize why as we crossed the floor. When the realization dawned, it was too late. The key was already in the office door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I think I'm just going to finish posting whatever is sitting in my PC right now cause I've got a ton of content and then I'm going to work on wrapping this up. (I updated the summary of the story to reference the upcoming reveal. omg.) It also helps me to stop editing and re-editing if I just publish this already. For whoever is still reading, thank you so much, I hope you're enjoying. I'm kinda sad that the fandom is dying out, but I also understand that folks are into reed900 or hankcon or whatever these days? Which is super duper okay. Either way, I am probably going to take a breather soon because I've been slowly working on a Hank/OC fic (yes, you read that right) that will act as a D:BH prequel and thematic prequel/parallel to this story. ~AM (10/13/19)


	16. An Unwelcomed Guest

The snow came heavy during the week and I didn't see the other two during that time. They were occupied with cases, another storage facility broken into - it was beginning to look like a pattern to the department - and for me, settled in at the club for those first seven days, there simply wasn't time for relaxation of any type. The weeknights saw a heavier clientele of androids (no need to sleep meant more free time which at least meant a quickly booked sound stage and steady profits).

That weekend, Hank and Connor were finally able to take a breather and meet me for the night. I was stuck in the office for a while when Connor stepped in and leaned against the closed door, startling me from my paperwork.

"I see that you rearranged," he said. He was referencing the mess we had made; everything was now cleaned up with a couple feet of strategically empty space.

I leaned back from the computer to look over at him. _I love those new button downs we got him_. _Was he wearing the same one from last week when we were in here? Purposefully? _"Hey, yeah, got a new chair, too. Seeing as you broke the other one." I swiveled around and tucked up my feet to sit cross-legged.

"Inaccurate. I insisted you remain on the desk. It's much sturdier." He emphasized this with a knock of his fist against the wood. "When I informed you of the subpar integrity of the chair, you ignored my advice."

"And you willingly continued to participate. I don't exactly remember you stopping."

Needless to say, the chair busted out from under us with Connor taking the brunt of the damage, including a couple screws impaling his palms.

"There are still traces of thirium on your floor. I should get that for you," he said.

"Obviously I can't see it, but sure. I'd appreciate it. Hey, did you uh, just come in to check on me?"

I had a fleeting thought of perhaps making another _mess _but I wasn't sure I even had the energy.

"You have been in here a while; I can tell something is bothering you."

_My conversation with Gavin. Shit._

I stood up to stretch which helped alleviate some of the tension I was feeling and reached out to take Connor in a loose embrace.

"Oh, trust me, I am _very_ bothered, but I really cannot afford another chair right now. Stuff's not cheap. Come on, probably shouldn't leave Hank out there alone for much longer. God forbid a woman tries to talk to him. I don't need to be losing patrons with that mouth of his."

Hank was undisturbed but quick to solicit his comment of the night. "Damn, musta set a record with that one. How long does it take you, Connor? Probably like me after a drought."

"There must have been a rainstorm I wasn't aware of then the other day, Hank, because the bathroom door was locked for a _long_ time."

Connor's making dirty jokes now. Part of me wanted to proud. Part of me wanted to dump the beer over Hank's head.

As I sat with them, I saw an individual standing over by the door. Through the dim light and array of people, I wasn't sure at first. I confirmed my own suspicions when he nodded at me; he wasn't going to leave without a few words.

_There goes my relaxation with these two_.

"Hey, I need to take care of something," I told them, slipping out of the booth.

"Is everything all right?" Connor asked.

Hank was already ordering another serving of wings and he could give less than half of two shits about the scene around him as long as they kept pouring that Scotch. He was in his happy place.

"Yeah, just business. I'll be back in five." I forced myself to think of other things so Connor's perceptiveness wouldn't motivate him to follow me.

I traversed the ever-growing crowd and through the kitchen to a back door. At the bottom of the metal frame steps I was immediately greeted with a, "Got a light?"

I pushed out a frustrated sigh and held tight to myself; this was not how I wanted to spend my time away from the boys.

"Tony…. Sorry to disappoint you but I quit. You got five minutes. The men I'm with are both cops so hurry it up."

"Oof. Good to see you, too, Lana. Hey, you should introduce me. Saw your name in a news article. You've done well for yourself. Imagine my surprise to see you returned."

"Fuck you doing here. You clean?"

"Been for ten years. After, uh - you know...Got myself a bank job."

"Good for you. So what, you really just come by to say hi?"

Cigarette ashes fell from between his fingers to the dusty snow and he raised his other hand in surrender, "Really really. Maybe we could catch up."

I scoffed and started back up the stairs behind me. "Not a chance in hell. You can stay if you plan on paying, otherwise enjoy your back alley. You always did find them comfortable."

"Ouch." Halfway through the doorway, he threw a question to the air, "The one next to you, boyfriend?"

"None of your fucking business."

"Hey."

I halted, my eyes nearly rolling back down the stairs. "_What_?"

"He owed us, Lana. You gonna help with that?"

"Fuck you."

I made sure to rebolt the door behind me and took a deep breath of the kitchen aromas to compose myself before heading back out to the floor.

Rather than beeline to the table immediately, I made my rounds again to make sure everyone was doing all right. I settled into a stool and poured myself another beer from over the counter. I glanced over at the table but saw that the men were both missing.

And then I heard Hank.

Loudly.

Over the speakers.

"OKKAY. This one's to embarrass my roommate who's also my partner at work but not like a life partner though he is gonna outlive me and he gets to look like _that_ until he crashes...that's gonna _suck_...and his new uh - new girlfriend or something, I guess. She also owns this joint so you better all buy a _fuck_ton of drinks. And post your photos on Twitter! Is that still around? God dammit, I'm old..."

I noticed Connor queue the karaoke screen on Hank's bid and toss up the microphone. He spotted me upon his return through the crowd to join me against the bar, noticing me cringe as the music started.

"Is everything all right? You seem mildly disturbed from your interaction. I also detect faint tobacco in your hair."

"I wasn't smoking, I promise, though I could _really_ fucking use one after these past weeks… I'm fine, it's was a...one-time business partner, just wanted to chat. It's okay, though, I promise. You don't need to worry." I ran a hand through his hair to give a reassuring scratch before relaying my attention to the stage.

"I think Hank is wasted," I sighed.

"Completely. But he is happy. And we're both here to monitor him. Besides, this is very entertaining."

"WALK INTO THE CLUB LIKE WHAT UP I GOT A BIG **COCK**"

"Was this a popular song?" he asked me.

"Oh yeah, came out when Hank was like, musta been in his late 20s."

I downed half my beer in one breath, Connor eyeing me curiously.

"What?" I sputtered, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Impressive."

"BUT IT WAS **NINETY NINE CENTS**"

The crowd adored Hank's uninhibited performance. Some of the patrons around his age were able to sing along, some of the androids must've downloaded the song and picked up the other broken bars of lyrics. Soon Hank was between an off-duty public works electrician and an android teenager, insisting they finish the song.

"THE BUILT-IN ONESIE WITH THE SOCKS ON THAT MUTHA_FUCKA_"

"I think it's my time to step in. Excuse me," Connor said. He disappeared into the crowd to rescue his friend.

"_Gotta pop some tags! CONNOR!"_

A tap on my shoulder and I snapped around to see Danielle. "I heard this business is yours?" she asked with a beaming smile.

"Hi! Yeah! You heard right! Hey, how are you doing? What brings you here? Oh my gosh, did Hank invite you?"

"I think so. Although now that I look, he seems to have already been a little inebriated when he messaged me. But it is not what you may think. Hank is simply a friend. We have our differences but that is okay."

Connor was just returning with Hank slung around his shoulders and paused before the two of us. If he was as shocked as I was to see her, he hid it politely.

"I think it's time I take this one home," Connor said.

"Do allow me," Danielle offered, reaching out to switch places with Connor and they exchanged Hank's drunken limp ass between them.

"_Heyit'syou_! Isn't this place the shit," Hank exclaimed. "Do people still use that phrase? You sure you don't want to sing?" His musings faded as Danielle pulled him towards the exit.

"Wow," I said, watching them leave. I turned my attention back to Connor. "Hey, what's wrong, he'll be fine."

"I know. But I'm still confused why he never said anything to me. Even after we spoke at dinner."

"I don't know. She told me they're not a thing."

Connor still wasn't entirely convinced even after we mingled and I was halfway down my own serving of chicken wings from the kitchen.

"Oh my God, Connor, what now?"

"You might be able to best Hank in a competition. Perhaps I will schedule a time for you both at home."

"Hey!" I nudged him in jest with my shoulder. His smile quickly faded and returned his attention to the large mirror before us behind the counter.

"Connor, if you're worried about Hank, go home. I understand. I get it, why you're still concerned. I'm sure he's fine, but I get it. And I don't know, maybe you're not wrong in wondering what's going on with the two of them. We don't really know her. Just go, I'll stop by later."

He slid off the stool and kissed my cheek. "Thank you."

Closing up a few hours later, the night crew would clean up and I finished out the till, made easier in part by the few cash transactions.

* * *

Arriving back at their place shortly after, I texted Connor so I wouldn't inadvertently wake Hank with the doorbell.

He ushered me in and told me that Danielle had filled him in on this great mystery. He told me that yes, she had been attracted to Hank upon first meet but realized it was one sided. There was no reason they couldn't be friends, but it would not go past that.

"Do you think it has to do with her, you know, not being human? Like what you thought?" I asked him.

"Yes. Perhaps one day he will, but I also think that he's simply not interested. He has his hands full," he said with a wink.

I chuckled, pulling him towards me by the waist for a hug. "Yeah, I can only _imagine _the nightmares you bring him."

Sumo bumped against our legs, hoping to join in on the affection.

"Come, Sumo," Connor said, going to sit on the sofa. Sumo joined in firm belief he was still a puppy. I stood and simply watched for a bit, the dog perfectly content taking up all the cushions, Connor's slim form trapped to one side.

I took the recliner and splayed my legs over the side, amused at their dichotomy. As I watched Connor lazily scratch Sumo's back, himself sunk into the cushions with his head lolled to one side, sensory memories from last week creeped through my skin. Comfortable warmth and smooth touches, airless groans staining my ear, supple fingers now running through fur previously taunting my lips in the dark, and that damn soft hair tickling my face when he came.

He caught me staring in the dark, granting me another corner smile.

"You're thinking," he said.

"Yeah." I wouldn't share exactly _what_ I was just fantasizing. That should wait for my own place. I swung my legs back down. "I actually think I should get home. I just want to sleep for a while. Hank's going to be very hungover in the morning, doesn't need me hanging around."

I stood up and stepped around the coffee table to give Sumo a goodnight scratch and gift Connor a tender kiss as well.

"You're sure?" he asked, reaching for my hand between us.

"Yeah. Hey, I'm gonna to be back at the original tomorrow night. Two of you be sure to come by."

"I'll let him know."

He tugged me back for another kiss and bid me goodnight, fingers slipping from mine like silk on steel.

I felt him watch me leave, certain his eyes could bore through the door and wrap around my heart like a vicegrip, and with each pulse of rough coil on tender flesh, tears threatened to spring forth and melt the snow beneath my feet.

I waited until I was a block away from their house before I let them fall into the steering column.

_Tomorrow. Tomorrow I had to tell them_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short one before the proverbial shit hits the literal fan. Our boys are gonna need Connor's umbrella. Also, song credit: "Thrift Shop", Macklemore & Ryan Lewis feat. Wanz, written by Ben Haggerty & Ryan Lewis, 2012.  
(Minor edit, 10/17/19, song lyric formatting)


	17. A Confession

Around six I had unearthed my hidden stash of Parliaments from under the counter and conducted my sin in the bathroom stall, spritzing Febreeze and brushing my teeth so I wouldn't have to experience another one of Connor's admonishments.

He was excellent at guilting you into appropriate behavior.

An hour later, they entered and Hank was the first to vocalize his suspicion.

"Fuck's up with the 'Closed' sign? You got some special entertainment planned for us?"

Connor was a bit more astute. "I don't think that's the case, Hank."

They took their usual seats but as I came around the bend to lean against an opposing booth, they swiveled around.

"Everything all right?" Hank asked.

Connor eyed me narrowly making a comment about my increased heart rate. "No. Lana, what's going on?"

_This is not going to be a fun night._ I cracked my neck and pushed out a final sigh.

"I uh - I need to tell you both something. Cause you're gonna find out one way or another soon and I'd rather you hear it from me. Connor, last night, you noted that I was kinda bothered when I came back from the kitchen. And you're right. It wasn't a business acquaintance, though. I mean, he kinda was but not like what you're thinking. It was an ex. And he knew my brother from a long time ago. That's who I need to talk to you about."

"You said you didn't have any family," Hank said.

"Yeah. Well, I did say no one alive or talking to each other. His name was Lewis and he was three years younger than me."

I hadn't spoken his name aloud in years, this buried harsh secret that carried the earth and his blood through my mouth.

"What happened?" Connor asked.

"In short, it was a...really horrific car crash. But there's a lot more to it which is why I wanted you both here. Because...Connor, if there's _any_ chance of continuing what _this_ is between us, I need you to know everything. And Hank, please, please just listen to the entire story."

He crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. "I'm all ears."

I was painfully hesitant in telling them this story now, each sentence to be marked with slow words, a molasses that had formed in my body over the years but was ready to be expelled. I was terrified that my feelings for Connor would paralyze me. Terrified that Hank would shoot me point blank. But that was exactly why I had to speak now.

"I'm not originally from here, you know that. But I never told you where. We were born and raised in Chicago, normal typical suburban family. Small house, working parents. We'd have breakfast every morning before school and before work. When I was 13, our father announced that he was leaving us to join our mother's best friend in Niagara Falls. She was three months pregnant. Said he had to take care of her. He was sitting there like he was giving the weather report. You know, chance of showers. Lewis ran after his car for three blocks before it finally turned away. He busted up his knee falling on the gravel.

"He and our father had been really close. I mean, Lewis adored him. He took it so personally after our dad left, and of course he would. The man up and left us with no forewarning. There were never any arguments in the house, he and my mother were always affectionate, none of us thought there was anything the matter otherwise. Lewis had always been a sweet little kid, he and I tended to get along for the most part. But then he became so _angry_, he started blaming himself, blaming our mother, blaming me. He couldn't process it, he was too young. And our mother was fine at first but then she started serial dating men, just, in and out of the house constantly. She finally met one she liked and they married. But he, uh, fairly quickly revealed himself to be a piece of shit. He and Lewis would fight when our mother was out of the house at work, like, real confrontational bruising fights. And each time, I don't know if she was just stupid at first or already brainwashed by then, but each time a new bruise appeared on Lewis, she blamed it on the neighborhood kids even though there was never any history of bullying. A few times I intervened. Which resulted in two broken arms, a cracked rib, and a busted nose. And again, she didn't do anything.

"Our uncle tried to help. I think that was the first time I also met Gavin. I musta been 13, he was maybe 19? He wasn't always a prick, believe it or not. Actually tried to be friends with us. I don't know why more couldn't be done at the time, frankly I don't really remember.

"Three years of this and Lewis finally ran away. He never said anything to me, just one day he was gone. It took me another couple years, but I finally managed to track him through his friends. He had hitchhiked all the way here to Detroit. I was 18 by then. Had a fair bit of cash saved up and I made it out here. After a couple weeks, I finally found him in a homeless camp. I wanted to get him home, or just... somewhere with me. I couldn't leave him again. I...couldn't. I was all he had. It was either leave him with these people and pray that he survived, or watch over him. At the time, the choice was simple. He was only 15. He needed me even if he refused to admit it. Apparently he had been bouncing around these camps the entire time he was in Detroit. For all I know, he ran into some of you from the PD. So I got us a cheap hotel room, I managed to convince him to stay with me except then there were more of them. Turns out that he, uh, he had gotten himself caught up in dealing to make money. Him and a group of guys."

I paused for a moment, Connor portraying his typical stoicism, his gaze almost imperceptibly more focused, and Hank's jaw had begun to grind.

"But needless to say, I stayed. We all moved into this shitty you know, kinda halfway-house, squat situation. Some of these kids managed to hold fast food jobs. Others were...useless. But I helped him. I helped him so I could keep track of him. I helped him count and weigh and bag the shit up and we'd go out together on deals. Once or twice I was...the protection. I mean, I never _shot_ anyone, but... anyway, I dealt the stuff with him because at least that way I could make sure he wasn't using, at least try to keep him healthy if nothing else. And I ended up failing at that. Miserably."

"What the fuck were you dealing, Lana." Hank asked as a man who already knew the answer but didn't want to face the vile confirmation. His entire body had stiffened, white knuckles clenched at the ends of crossed arms.

I didn't want to say it.

Connor spoke for me, not breaking eye contact with me, the words a profound prophecy like seeing the devil's horns on a piece of burnt toast. "Red Ice."

I curled my lips, biting the bottom one harshly, and gave a leaden nod.

"_Jesus fuckin' Christ,"_ hissed Hank with a shake of his head. He begrudgingly waved me on to keep speaking.

"This all lasted about six months. And I'd only seen him high once during this time. It was horrible. I tried getting him to knock it off one night and...he takes this broken plate they had been using to count, slices me clean. That's the scar on my back you saw. And he just runs off cause he can't believe he just did that to me. Then I get a call a few hours later that he's still high as all fuck at a bar. They were gonna call the cops if I wasn't there in five minutes. I was so damned _furious_ with him. But I had to get him, he needed me."

Speaking this, it was like I was still trying to convince my past self that I had made the right choices, even if I didn't quite believe them now so many years later.

"I went over to pick him up. It musta been well past midnight and we're heading out through the suburbs and I just - I didn't see it. I wasn't told until much later but...the stop sign at the intersection had fallen over and I didn't see it. I - I didn't see it." My voice was cracking. _Just a bit more, a little more_. "They told me it was a truck. I still don't remember most of it, just...bits and pieces of our argument. No lights. They told me he died on site and that I had to be medevaced. Next time I saw him was to ID him at the morgue, must have been days later. No visitors. No one had picked up on it yet, or, I don't know. I don't know if anyone ever came. And all I remember thinking was how I couldn't stop screaming in the car. That maybe _I _had been the distracted driver. After that, I left. I went to the house in the middle of the night to gather a few things, grabbed a gun. Cut contact with everyone; they would have expected me to pick up the slack. He had a stash hidden that no one knew about. I didn't go back for that, either. All this happened before I was 19. He had just turned 16."

I paused, tugging at the hem of my shirt, already having unconsciously unraveled several inches of thread. I was on the verge of tears recounting the story, unwilling to let them see that.

I was finally able to meet their gazes and hold each for a few seconds at a time, drifting between them. Connor hadn't stopped looking at me through my entire story but his face didn't betray any emotion. Was he holding back? Unable to fathom these incomprehensible stories of a woman long gone from the timeline, consumed whole by forces that screamed out, _Don't. They'll only hate you for it._

I finally swallowed. "I am _so sor_ry I didn't tell you any of this earlier. I've never told anyone about that night. But I promise this is the entire sordid history of the extended Reed family. We are… royally fucked up."

I could feel the dread metastasizing in my gut as if Hank's cold gaze was willing it to grow into the worst form of cancer imaginable. And Connor sat in stoic blank silence, perhaps psychically pleading for the lump to recede.

I was terrified that Hank would come out victorious in this battle of wills, one gun shot to my brain and _whoop_, no more ex-teenage-drug-dealing-virgin-android-popping Lana Reed. Leave her to bleed out on the loose tiles, absorbed by the foundation stones beneath.

When he suddenly uncrossed his arms, I faltered against the table behind me, skittish like hearing a champagne bottle pop.

My voice broke. "Say something. Please."

If Hank even dared to open his mouth a centimeter, hellfires would burst forth and torch my building to the ground.

I was afraid to speak again; the simple act of expelling a breath might topple Hank over the edge and Connor to suffer a reboot.

The second I began to push away and motion to take a step towards them, Hank erupted from his seat and threw out a rigid and pointed finger at me. "Don't you fucking move."

"Hank," Connor said. _Stop. _He looked at his partner out of the corner of his eye.

"Connor, we're going. Now before I do something I'll regret."

Connor pivoted to address Hank straight on, shunning my gaze.

"This doesn't involve you, Hank. Get in the car and leave us alone."

"Like hell it doesn't! She asked for both of us to be here, not just you. She made it about the three of us when she _fucked_ you in MY HOUSE! Now let's GO!"

Then to me, he demanded, "And you, I want you down at the station first thing tomorrow morning and you're going to give me all the names you or your brother ever lived with, worked with, sold to, fucked over, or fucked with and I want all the names of _anyone_ they were connected to. There's no _good intentions_ when it comes to this crap! Not only did you touch it but you're telling us you fucking _dealt_ the shit that I worked my _ass_ off trying to get off the streets. You're going to keep writing names until there's blood on my fucking interrogation table and your fucking hand falls off. Don't even _think_ about coming by the house. You get your ass to the precinct and then stay the _fuck _away. And I swear if there is _anything_ else that comes up because of this, don't doubt for a second I'm tossing your ass in a cell."

He didn't wait for an answer, instead tearing through the front door with a brutal punch, the welcome bell clattering to the floor to roll away and hide among the forgotten dust bunnies.

Connor hesitated, watching Hank stomp out to his car. He half-turned to scan me out of the corner of his vision, uncertainty balled in lost fists on his legs and thin lips.

"I'm sorry," I croaked.

His mouth parted perhaps in some vain attempt to compile the right thoughts and words, instead interrupted by Hank's harsh car horn.

He stood and glanced out the front door then back to me, as if asking for permission.

"Just go before he comes back to blow my brains out. It's okay."

A slight nod and he departed without a word.

In Connor's desire to remain amicable with Hank, I wasn't sure now how their conversation would go. Infuriating, confusing, convincing? Would Connor try to understand or agree to Hank's terms? I may have effectively doomed our relationship but I had to tell them.

I had to.

* * *

So, shortly after 8am Monday morning, the receptionist called for Connor and told me to pass through the gates on the right side. He immediately met me just outside the cubicle area, with the same impassable professional airs as the first time I had been here, although this time, I don't think it was masking anything.

He led me down to the Interrogation Room but not without hearing my name called from a few feet away. I halted in my tracks to look over and see Gavin emerging from their break room, coffee in hand, smug look plastered on his face. Connor stopped momentarily as well.

"Heyyy! What is this? 800, don't tell me you're sneaking her in for a quick fuck?"

I could tell Connor tried to resist his goading with a second of consideration and curled fingers. In the next, the flesh dissolved from his hand and he punched Gavin so hard in the nose, I heard an audible crunch. The man stumbled and tripped, coffee spilling across the tile, blood quickly pooling where he landed. Connor peered down with the look of a man who had just taken his 100th kill and readjusted his jacket. His skin returned with no perceptible damage and then sharply pivoted back and beckoned me with a nod to keep walking the few feet to the room.

_Here I thought Gavin was improving_. I could still hear him cursing creatively as Connor unlocked the door for me to enter and I sat at the steel table. Connor returned a few moments later with a tablet.

"The names, Lana. Hank will be here soon," he said, motioning to turn.

"Connor."

He paused before he was able to look at me. "I'm trying to understand what you told us. He was your brother and you would have done anything to protect him. It was unfortunate that Red Ice had to be part of that equation. Especially since it did not turn out well in the end. But also, you and Hank have kept secrets from me and I don't understand why. I was respectful of you after we met and didn't retrieve any information about you or your family. I wanted to get to know you the old-fashioned way. I'm not as naive as the two of you seem to think."

"Connor, that is not it at all. Not one bit. I didn't tell you any of this when we first met because it's a part of my past I really try to forget. The shit with my family and growing up in that kind of environment, losing my only sibling...I have a relative right down the hall who's still talking shit. I couldn't have told Hank about the Ice. I - I hate thinking about those months. I had to get past it all and establish myself. And I did that fairly successfully. It's not exactly a casual story to toss around over drinks. But I had to tell you, cause I -"

I was fiddling with the tablet in front of me, clicking the screen on and off. I considered ending my sentence but couldn't find the strength.

Connor opened the door. At first I figured he was going to leave mid-conversation but instead Hank entered and stood across the table. He was still furious, suppressing noticeable ticks as he spoke.

"All right. He got what you need. Had some time to think this over, got myself a good breakfast down the block. We'll be right on the other side. I meant what I said. Everyone. And that fucking stash you mentioned. Wanna confirm that if you think it's still around. Come on, son," he said, nudging Connor out the door who didn't give me another look.

For the next two hours I drafted out a timeline trying to dig these names from the pits of blocked memory. My brother lived with at least 20 others in the homeless camp where I found him before the others were kicked out by an officer. I remembered five because they were the ones he set up in my hotel room (one of which was the man who found me at the club, Tony, although we didn't get together until a brief period in college and I made note of these interactions, as well). Lewis and I and the others moved to the squat and then a rent-controlled house. Six more people were introduced. Four left. I made the mistake of hooking up with one who was shot two days later. We don't know who did it. I tried to recall the names of their girlfriends, boyfriends, any siblings they might have mentioned. Other friends they had that came and went. How many of those we sold to. I never went out with anyone else, just Lewis. They'd all discuss their "boss" but I didn't have a real name. Fat Tuesday or Fat Jim or Fat Fuck or something.

I was interrupted briefly when I heard a bang against the glass divider. Couple moments later, Hank entered, wringing his hand.

"Gavin?" I proposed. For someone who wanted to be family again, he wasn't doing a good job at deserving it.

Hank paused before answering, probably biting back harsh curses to answer the question at hand.

"Suspended. Sure wish I had seen that first blow Connor gave him. Gonna have to check the CCTV later. Right, keep going."

There were three girls my brother alternatively dated, then there was some drama between him and one of their ex-boyfriends. Our main clients were a group of five mid-20-something business professionals. A few other regulars, couple single fathers. College kids around our age, a professor. I always had a gun on me that I had bought off one of his friends, only revealed it a couple times to a couple douchebags who didn't want to pay and were starting to get handsy.

I remembered that Lewis' last known stash was in an old locker under Baltimore Street station, maybe seven minutes from here. It was probably eaten by rats or long lost since then.

Hank sat and pushed over another tablet towards me. "We were able to dig up some info on your brother. Death certificate, interview with the bar owner done by one of my prior colleagues who mentioned that the deceased's sister picked him up. Report on the guy that killed him. In case you wanted to know he was convicted of manslaughter, didn't have his headlights on at night and was speeding. Town got a fat fine for the missing stop sign. Even have your statement here from the hospital. Crash site photos. You seem to have a clean record, though."

He eyed me with every intention of editing that record if I didn't hand over every minute detail he needed, including the color of their shit if he asked for it.

He swiped the screen.

"Here's a list of guys we took down in the 20s as part of the task force, narrowed to a 20 mile radius of where the accident happened cause you said you were almost back to his place. Right?"

"Yeah, it was only a few blocks."

He took back the list out of my sight. "You think you got any more for me?"

"No. We were - my brother was bottom of the rung. Same people. We didn't know too many."

"You have a real job during this stint?"

"Yeah. Local coffee chain. Happy Monkey or something… Banana Java. Java Monkey..."

"You list me any of them?"

"Yeah. Supervisor. Couple coworkers. All I could remember."

"Boyfriends or girlfriends?"

"A couple hookups. They're here."

"Were you clean? Never smoked the shit? Injected?"

"Never. No, I wouldn't even be in the same room with them when that happened. I always… pulled him away."

Hank leaned back with tight crossed arms and I held his gaze for as long as he needed, feeling every ounce of approval I had received from him having been dredged out and now he was scraping the bottom for leftovers. I resisted the urge to look at the mirror as Hank and I had this contest. I couldn't.

"Get out of here, we'll compare lists, see if you got anything new for me we might have missed. 14 years later, I dunno what we'll get out of this but it's worth a peek. Tell me something though, what did you do when you went back to Chicago?"

"Moved in with a friend. Got a job for a few years, went to college, got a better job. Tended a few bars. Became a manager at one of them. Back to school for business administration."

"Came back here."

"Yep."

"Hm. This city's got a fucked up sense of humor, doesn't it. Why us, I wonder. This city takes people from us."

"It may have. But we got Connor in return, didn't we? It's not all fucked."

"Don't play cute, not in the mood," he said. Hank stood, pushing away from the table, grabbed the tablets, and swung open the door. "Get outta here. I'll come by later after we sort through this."

I headed back down the hallway I had come from, taking a quick glance at the desks in the middle despite the fact that I knew Connor had stayed behind that partition when I was speaking with Hank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My laptop is about to die cause the charge port is bust and I don't get another one delivered until next week. I'm going on vacation this weekend, too. Wanted to toss up another wad of story. If you've made it this far, thank you so much. This is the longest thing I've ever written (10/17/19)


	18. "All I Think About is You"

Silence for the next few days and I dared not go visit. Heavy snow isolated me to remain close to home, a punishment for these transgressions and hidden truths. I was to stay here, away from the man who lost his son because of the drug, away from the other who had just wanted to be close, but how could he now?

I had to focus on my work, distract myself from the horrible things Connor and Hank had learned about me, praying every moment they would see past them and _maybe_ try to understand the unforgivable actions I had taken back then. After fourteen years, didn't I deserve forgiveness? I could barely forgive myself for what had happened back then and in order to preserve whatever sanity had remained after that night, I had pushed it all away. But now it was sputtering back, a clogged up sewer pipe, leaking out in brief mentions over the past weeks.

The day we were out shopping and I had accidentally alluded to Connor that I had seen someone get hurt, when he helped me out of the dress and ran his fingers over the scar on my back from when Lewis attacked me, my conversation with Gavin, and then finally Tony appearing at the club.

Tony who hinted that Lewis - that I - still owed him money.

_Fuck._

_I hadn't mentioned that to Hank._

Hank was squatting at the bottom step of my townhouse as I came up the sidewalk from my car. I halted as he stood, still several yards down.

"Time to talk. Let me in, I'm freezing my nuts off."

I resumed my approach, fishing out my keys. I greeted him with a hand to his arm (an immediate mistake as I felt him tense), as I led him inside. I honestly didn't know what to expect from this conversation but at least he didn't seem too foul. I held my breath deep as I kicked off my things and shut the door behind us.

He stepped in, eyed up the space, and immediately made himself comfortable in a chair in the living room.

"Sit down," he ordered.

I took the sofa, unsure exactly how to position myself, settling on the edge so I could look at him as squarely as possible, fidgeting hands in my lap.

"Don't misinterpret what I'm about to say here. I'm still fucking furious as shit at you. But, you did a good job with that list. Looks like most of them we already nabbed. Few more were documented to have left the city. Contacting those departments to keep an eye. But one of those names actually produced a lead and I've got a couple guys looking into it. Couple more at the train station."

"Good," I said.

"You want to tell me some more about that guy who was at the club? Tony? The fuck did he want."

"I don't know, Hank. He learned I was back after that news article came out about the club opening. That interview I did, I guess. And uh, apparently Lewis owed him money. Him or someone else. I didn't ask. Didn't care."

"Debt's a fucking debt, Lana, especially in that world. You know that. Doesn't fucking matter how much time has passed. He's going to want it."

"Then what do you suggest I do then? Want me to get a duffel bag?"

"Hey, don't get snarky with me. This is your fucking mess. Figure it out."

"Yeah, I know," I said. "I know…"

We sat in resigned heavy silence for a few moments as I considered my options. Seek out Tony and pay him whatever he wanted to cover my ass, or hold out and pray he didn't come looking. I did have two cops in my life. Emphasis on _did_. The night wasn't over and I still hadn't heard from Connor. Nor had I sought him out. And that broke me in a different manner than the disgust on Hank's lips.

As the silence eased and Hank shifted in the cushions, I knew I wasn't even close to being out of the woods yet. His jaw was still clenched, fingers tapping on the armrest. I still felt like I was back at the police station but now instead of Captain Hank this was going to be Connor's Adoptive-Father/Friend/Mentor Hank.

"Do you know what you're doing?"

His question startled me from my thoughts and I asked what he meant.

"You know exactly what I mean."

What am I doing in my life, or more accurately, what am I doing with Connor.

"For the most part, yeah. Chicago gave me time to plan out my life and start completely over. I didn't have any family. Didn't go back to old friends… I know I made the mistake of dating shitface there, but it was brief. He was clean, let me go. And I had to figure out what I wanted. And part of that... now...part of that includes the two of you. No, Hank, please listen to me."

He scoffed but I was pleading.

"Please. I genuinely mean that. I want the two of you in my life. Spending time with the two of you…. And Connor, he's… I finally feel a sense of peace over me that… I don't think I've ever had. Just peace and safety and he's _kind_ and I don't deserve any of that. It was so long ago now and I've tried so hard to push it down and away, but I did what I did to protect my brother. I was 18 and I know that's not an excuse but I never had anyone else to help me. It was always just the two of us. I never felt like I had any other choice. I - I'll understand if you can't forgive me for that, if - if you don't agree or you don't understand, especially given your personal connection to it. I am truly sorry for not revealing any of this sooner, but I can't apologize for trying to keep him safe. Even though I failed him."

I collapsed back into the sofa, suppressing the sobs that dared burst forth. Reliving those memories was horrible enough but Hank's palpable disappointment and disapproval and anger hung between us now, a dense fog that I wasn't sure I could clear without his help.

He finally spoke. "I get hiding your trauma. Fuck knows I get that. But why couldn't it have been cocaine or meth or something classic like PCP? Maybe some fucking codeine." Hank pushed out a deep sigh and craned his neck over the back of the chair before snapping back to look at me, shaking his head. "Can't believe I'm fucking saying this. If there's one thing that Connor taught me when we first met it's to let go. Try to get over my own personal hatred and all that shit. I fucking hated androids because of one doctor's fucked up decisions and one android's inability. And that wasn't fair to the rest of them… Fucking hate myself for saying this but you turned out to be useful with that list. And generally speaking, you're not a piece of shit. Well, you are, but...ya know. You're not _actively _being a piece of shit. Gotta focus on that part. Connor was very persuasive. Kinda surprised the two of you haven't spoken. Maybe he wanted me to play bad cop so he could swoop in and be good cop. No fucking clue what goes on in that head sometimes," he said. His intonation was slowly returning to a state where maybe he could crack a raunchy joke and it wouldn't seem out of place.

I was hesitant to respond at first, finally finding the courage to do so. "Thank you, Hank," I said. "Not for the 'piece of shit' comment, but …"

"Yeah yeah. Not sure if Connor will be forgiving. He ran all the names you gave us through social media - "

_And_ that's _probably why I haven't heard from him._

I collapsed my head into my hands at this comment and leaned against the arm of the sofa, uncovering my face as Hank continued to speak.

"- and he found some interesting stuff. Thought I told you to tell us if there was anything missing."

"Those photos have _nothing_ to do with my time in Detroit. They're from later in college! That was all _so long ago_. He did look at the timestamps, right? _Shit_."

"Maybe let Connor know he isn't expected to be your table for doing shots. Or put anything in his bellybutton. Or cover his-"

"I get the point, Hank!"

"Yeah well either he's going to be mimicking a few things he just learned or short-circuit and we're gonna have to take him in to CyberLife. So fucking thank you for that, too, Lana. It's bad enough I can't tell what I'm going to walk into these days. I caught him flexing in the bathroom mirror a while ago. '_The fuck are you doing?_' I ask him. '_You can't actually _grow _muscle, can you? Aren't you all synthetic?_' Tells me he's never done it before. Was taking measurements of himself. And don't get me started on the day he bought himself a dick. That was uh, couple days into this month, he's in the bathroom. Why the hell does an android need to be in the bathroom! Doing his hair? He's standing there with his _dick _out like it's a remote controlled helicopter, up down up down -

(Hank mimicked the motions with his finger)

"- I slam the door shut and hear Connor yell out at me, '_Calibration test_!' That's what I get for being curious."

It felt good to laugh. Even just for a moment. He noted this mix of hysterical laughter, horror, disbelief, and embarrassment and said, "Sorry you fell for this one."

"Excuse me?" I managed to ask. My cheeks still hurt from laughing at this image he had painted. I caught my breath and steadied myself back to normal.

"Do you love him?"

"Hank, I -"

He was haughty, eyes wide and arms crossed, trying to pull an answer from me that I hadn't quite been able to form.

"Fucking answer the question. I'm still not in a good mood. Yes or no."

"Why are you asking me this? Hank, I don't know, okay? Yeah. Maybe. I don't know. All right, I - I have a tendency to get attached to people pretty quick. When I was younger, a guy could give me attention and I'd get a hardon in two seconds flat. I'm just - I have to make sure that what I'm feeling isn't _that_. And it isn't, but -"

"Enough. Sorry I asked. Figure it out and then go tell him so he'll leave the house and I won't have to hear the two of you banging again. My house is not a college dormitory. Only one getting off in there is me, and no, I did not appreciate that post it note."

When I had helped clean his house, prior to our snowball fight with Connor.

"Guess we're even then," I said.

"We're even. But you two still got some stuff to work out after our little revelation this weekend. I see you got the rose." He nodded towards my kitchen where I had set it up in a shotglass for myself.

"You knew about that?"

"What don't I know about you two at this point… Connor started off with some internet research a few weeks ago before Valentine's. Stumbled onto some sites I wish I hadn't seen. Had a few more awkward conversations. Also he just _had_ to do some window shopping on the way back from work a couple times. But he found that thing. Guess it worked out."

"Oh my lord, Hank...Should I be concerned about the sites?"

"Nah." Hank pushed out of the chair and stepped around the coffee table to leave. I stood as well but didn't move. "I try to keep my nose out of this crap but it's kinda hard when the kid won't shut the hell up about you."

The tension was still tangible between us but not nearly as frigid as it had been on Monday or even when he walked in just a bit ago. The laughter had settled back to be locked away for another night, now uneasy, as if we shouldn't have fallen back to casual conversation.

"I still don't want you coming over, but he made a solid case for you and it pisses me off."

I nodded in accepting resignation, despite wishing that Connor had reached out to me independently. Investigating the names, finding the old social media photos, not a great continuation of my story. I still had no idea what the two of them had said to each other over this. Had Hank stopped him? Was he really that angry and confused that he was siding with Hank on this one? And then Hank asking me out of the blue if I _loved_ the man. What a mess.

I don't know. I really didn't know.

* * *

Late the following night, I was out sitting on my stoop to get the air, bundled as tight as I could get, when I received a message from Connor, asking if he could see me. I responded, _Yes, I'm at home._

15 minutes later I heard someone coming up the sidewalk. For a second I thought it was Connor but the footfalls were too heavy, too uneven.

"Hey, Lana."

I pushed out a deep sigh, watching my breath evaporate into the cold. "Gavin. What the hell are you doing here? First, you want to be friends, then you piss off Connor. You're kinda zero for zero here, ya know. You want to get punched a third time in a week?" His nose was busted, accentuating the scar, his face now also graced with a fainting black eye.

"Eh, not really. Move. Wanna sit down. I came to talk. Came to say sorry. Again."

I obliged his request and nudged over a couple inches to give him space next to me. I was too tired to argue; I really didn't want to. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight despite getting what he deserved by both Hank and Connor.

_I still had no idea what solicited the punch from Hank_.

"You've got nothing to apologize for, Gav. We all know you're still a dick deep down."

"Look, I caught wind of what the two of them were working on, why you were there. Hey, I didn't know. You know after my dad and I tried to help out with your mom... she didn't want us there. I wish I had stayed and pushed back, I was pissed as shit when we left 'cause I saw what the dick was doing to the two of you. Two of you were my little cousins, looking back on it, I coulda looked into custody or something, least get you to live with me out here. Why didn't you reach out after he ran away? Coulda helped."

"Because we were stubborn. I was stubborn. I always had a very difficult time asking people for help. But you're right. Maybe it all would have been prevented. Except you were also an officer by then and the last thing he needed was a rap sheet."

"Wish I had known. I remember we got along when I visited."

"And then we grew up and you turned into the biggest android-hating douchenozzle I have ever met. It's okay, I mean, I appreciate you checking up on me. Again. You seem like you're actually trying to give a shit. But just uh, do me a favor and keep working on not being a dick? Who knows, maybe one day if they ever forgive me for being a piece-of-shit teenager, the four of us can have a beer. "

"And if not, you can be a piece of shit with me. Welcome back to the family, Lana."

He nudged my shoulder and stood with a stretch.

"Hey, there he comes now!" Gavin looked down the sidewalk as Connor came into view.

He halted before us both throwing his deadpan stare towards the other man.

"She already offered another hook to the face. I'm good. Came to offer some familial sympathy. I'll see you around, Lana. Later," he said with a (_I really hoped he meant it to be playful_) slap to Connor's arm and then departed down the other way.

Connor watched him for a few more seconds before turning his attention back down to me on the stairs.

"What did he want?"

"Believe it or not he came to apologize for not helping out more when we were younger...Do you want to join me?"

"Inside if you don't mind. It's too cold," he said.

I settled into the sofa, he on the edge of the cushion, half speaking to the air, half back to me. "Lana, I - I should have stopped by sooner. I'm sorry. I needed time to think. And to convince Hank not to throw you in jail. He was furious the remainder of the night after you spoke with us. I had to keep emphasizing with him that you were a teenager when this happened. And while I cannot in any way condone what you did, and the severity of the drug itself, it was a while ago. However, what you told us about your family, your brother, what he chose to do and how you decided to help him, I still don't understand why you didn't ask for help from anyone."

I sighed and pushed myself forward to better capture his eyes. "Connor, growing up the way we did, you come to believe very quickly that there isn't a lot of help around. The people who were supposed to love us and never leave us, our parents, they weren't there. We barely knew our grandparents, had no idea who any of them were except Andrew. It's just..it's not that straight forward. After you've been disappointed a few times, a lot of times… _most_ of the times, you stop asking for help. It's easy to look back and think yeah, maybe I should have reached out to cousin Gavin, he would have had the resources to get my brother back on his feet. But I didn't. You know, people...get very selfish in those kinds of situations. You're not wrong but it's never that clear at the time. I don't know if that makes sense."

After a few moments to process what I said, he nodded, "It does. And you were young. Your brother was your only priority."

"Yeah. Look, Hank also mentioned to me that you found some stuff on old social accounts while checking the list I gave you. All that's in the past. It's not who I am. I'm sorry you stumbled over those. If that was part of the reason I hadn't heard from you after Sunday night."

"I wouldn't put them in a scrapbook anytime soon. No need to apologize. I told you the other day it only matters who you are now. But I didn't listen to my own advice. I was still trying to reason this out. I wanted to work your file overnight so we could put an end to this as quickly as possible. You're a good person, Lana. You helped save those androids, you employ numerous others, you donate to Markus' campaigns. And you care for Hank and I."

I reached over to take a hand from his leg.

"Are we okay then?"

He nodded then settled back into the cushions with me to wrap an arm around my shoulder.

I asked him again to stay that night and he agreed, but rather than taking to the bed, we huddled within ourselves on the sofa. He held me tight and secure so I wouldn't tumble.

My heart _ached_ with newly discovered words that would soon leave a bad taste in my mouth if left unsaid, but I wouldn't dare expel them just yet.

He whispered a very soft "_Thank you"_ into my hair.

"For what?" I asked.

"For this."

I bit my lip hard and shut my eyes, forcing my attention to the pump and the feel of his arms around me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title credit: "Doom Days" from the album of the same name, Bastille (Dan Smith), 2019


	19. A Secret

We slowly eased into a new routine over the following month. I saw Connor more often than Hank for the first couple weeks as his anger took a while to subside. With Hank not too eager to see me again, neither of them visited the bars, but I offered to pick up Connor after my shifts. The first time, I made the mistake of ringing the doorbell instead of waiting in my car, and Hank opened the door only to slam it back in my face. The second time, I slid my foot inside and bit my lip when he slammed it again. Sumo even poked his gigantic head through in an effort to make his dad feel guilty. By the third time, Hank actually let me into the house to pick up his roommate and grumbled something indistinguishable from the sofa.

"You say something, Hank?"

Connor rounded the corner from the hallway, looking between us both for more information.

Hank grumbled something again.

"He said he'll be back for drinks tomorrow," Connor interpreted.

"Ah, Connor, come on, I thought I told you to shut off your heightened hearing sensors or whatever the fuck they are. Goddamn enhanced components advertised every damn day on television now."

"I haven't purchased anything new, if that's what you're insinuating."

"No, no, not at all," Hank said with a wave. Hank didn't believe him. Not for a second. "Lana."

I bent over the back of the sofa to look at him properly.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said.

I lingered for a moment before planting a kiss in the top of the man's hair and a pat to his shoulder. "Thanks, Hank."

Eventually, they resumed their semi-regular schedule of visiting at the bar together and depending on Hank's mood we'd all have dinner and watch a new show or movie on his TV with Sumo collapsed across our collective laps. Sumo had already begun to exhibit arthritis in his hips from dysplasia and Connor would assist him whenever he wanted up on the cushions. He would be nine very soon; I vaguely remembered Hank telling me previously his birthday was in April. Perhaps a party was in order for the boy.

On other nights, Connor would surprise me after his shift at my place to aid in my own housework and learn about my business dealings with vendors and hiring staff and employment contracts and upkeep. We found a nearby animal shelter where Connor could play with the dogs for a few hours every week to help socialize them.

He was a natural but every time Connor piped up about them during dinner, Hank would retort with, "You know, you're going to make Sumo here jealous, Connor. He's going to think you don't love him anymore. Is that what you want?"

Connor's broken heart was prominent through his eyes. "Of course not, Hank!"

Once I was back on Hank's good graces and had access to their home again, intimacy between Connor and I was typically a quick makeout in his bedroom before Hank admonished us with some perverted comment or else we hid under our bed covers followed by a deep sleep. My home, however, was a different side of Connor's proverbial coin. The next time we had sex was in my living room, slower, more purposeful, and more _exploratory_ than the first experiences, his tongue doing _fuckknowswhat_ in such a way I was sure I was going to push the arm right off my furniture. That time and each time after that, he would always ask if he was doing something correctly despite the fact that I _knew_ he was probably analyzing every movement. But I appreciated it, I did adore his questions because, even under these circumstances, they were honest and curious and filled with genuine concern and only contained myself in his mind.

We had his house to ourselves one night as Hank needed to stay back for a conference call with the west coast. Connor took full advantage of the privacy so we could _burrow_ in the sofa, Sumo the lazy lookout on the hardwood. Maybe fifteen minutes in, Connor shot up, hair a complete mess, shirt halfway unbuttoned and askew, and said, "Hi Hank. Your meeting was scheduled to run for another 24 minutes."

I covered my face with my hands in a dire effort to just disappear and melt into the cushions, becoming one with the foam and Cheetos dust.

Silence.

Shuffling footsteps closer.

"She decent at least?"

Connor adjusted my own shirt back down and pulled my hands away.

"Yes, Hank."

Hank leaned over the back of the sofa to peer down at me. "What the hell did I tell you?"

"Mm. Don't leave stains?"

He smirked and shook his head. "The other thing."

"Your house isn't a college dormitory."

"Yeah. So let's keep it in our pants and away from where I have dinner."

He started to walk away when Connor said something that made me want to poison his thirium. "Then I apologize, Hank. This isn't the first time we've used your couch. I placed an order for upholstery yesterday. You needed it anyway. You won't be able to tell the difference."

I was so glad Hank had returned to his blunt (if slightly perverted) sense of humor with me; I had initially feared he would never forgive me for my involvement in Red Ice as a teenager.

Only a couple weeks after Hank had pulled me into the station, it was St Patrick's Day weekend and Connor agreed to join me in observation. The holiday last year was greatly subdued in the new Detroit given the absence of the majority of humans, but was still lavishly celebrated among the populate. Humans got drunk off their asses in the streets as per tradition, painting themselves green, wearing green, eating green, puking green. The androids curiously and cautiously watched us parade through Corktown, a few even joining in as we got going to fill out the crowds. I locked up last year as well, more eager to join the celebrants in the cold than clean up a mess alone.

But it seemed that perhaps this second year there was already more interest in ancient human holidays, also perhaps seeking ways to appropriate the traditions into some brand new ones.

I didn't participate in the parade itself like last year, instead standing behind the barricade to observe with Connor. We could see Hank a block down in full uniform, cleaned up with his hair pulled back. He still wasn't speaking to me with the same attitude as before and I didn't blame him in the slightest. Although my own humor was swifter to return.

"Have you ever seen that before?" I asked. "It's like a bear on its hind legs."

Markus was scheduled to join at some point as well.

"Hey have you two kept in contact at all? You know, after Jericho and everything."

"Myself and Markus? No. I believe he's been inundated with politics. But it would be nice."

"Maybe he'll show."

He did. After Hank passed us and I managed to get his attention and take his picture by Connor screaming his name (this probably didn't win me _any_ points, but it was worth it), Markus' troupe was next. He paused upon seeing Connor and approached us, the surrounding androids screaming in excitement.

This was also my first time meeting the man up close and we shook hands as Connor introduced me.

"It's an honor. You know we've uh - we've been participating at the community center a couple times. They've been fun."

"I'm glad to hear that. I know Carl would also be proud." To Connor, he said, "You should really be out here with us. I don't entirely understand this holiday, but if it's another way to display unification of our peoples, then I support it."

I lightly pressed Connor's back with a mouthed, _Go_.

Markus nodded a goodbye and Connor and Markus caught up with the others.

Not even five minutes after Connor was absorbed into the parade, I heard Gavin behind me.

"Hey, cuz."

"Gavin. Are you allowed to be with the civilians?

"Eh, figured I'd make pleasantries. Where's your plastic prick?"

"That's a very quick way to lose points, Gavin. Try again."

"Okay okay, sorry, I will _try_. Where's the deviant hunter?"

"Slightly better… He's up front with Markus."

"Well isn't this a sight. Hey, I meant what I said; it would be kinda nice to have a family member around. And it doesn't look like you and plas- _Connor_ \- sorry, the two of you are breaking up anytime soon. I can compromise. Rather not get stuck on desk duty again."

"Gavin, I keep forgetting to ask. Why the hell are you still here?"

"Pizza's pretty good, I guess."

"Come on. In a city where there's more androids than humans."

"Cause I'm pissed off."

"Cause you think you coulda handled the deviant cases?"

"Fucking look at what a great fucking job he did. Evidence room was emptier than my guts after a bender."

"Have you ever considered that if you can put aside your ego for one second, maybe you could actually work together?"

"Don't push it. Hard enough for me to keep a straight face knowing the two of you are fucking."

"Why does it bother you so much?"

"Isn't natural."

"Oh get the hell over yourself, Gav. You wouldn't talk about Chris like that, would you? This isn't any different. No, shut your face for half a second. They might not have popped out of anyone's vagina like you and me but they're intelligent and they have the same rights as you. Can't be a good cop if you've got some bullshit racial biases. I still remember that shit from when we were kids. So maybe apologize to Hank for whatever you did to deserve that fucking bruise on your face that looks like a goddamn nut sack, and then apologize to Connor for pointing your gun in his face how many times? Not asking you to suck his dick, Gav, just some fucking common courtesy. Got it?"

He grunted in resignation. "I'm not going to be their friends and join your little posse. Too much shit to do. Later."

It was a start.

After that day of the parade and as the weeks passed and Hank and I were back on good terms, I had begun to think that _maybe_ it was time to revisit the idea of spending some family hours with Gavin.

* * *

It was into April now and at the first sign of the weather beginning to easing up, Connor and I managed to convince Hank it was time to take Sumo down to a dog park. We, of course, had our ulterior motive: Hank needed a fucking girlfriend. Someone to redirect (and be the focus of) his perverted comments.

"Oh come on, he's getting old. They'll all run him over. Fucking yappy things out there."

Sumo could still hold his own well enough, formidable as he sat beside Hank who was leaning against a tree, resigned to this horrific fate of _sun_ and _fresh air_. The park was fairly busy; it was the first decent day that wasn't completely blinded by snowdrifts so everyone was taking to the streets. More of the androids were out for longer periods of time than the previous months because it was finally warm enough that their biocomponents wouldn't freeze. The weather was even tricking the foliage; perks of green were sprouting back although a final winter wave was still possible.

Connor and I took a short walk around the park so he could introduce himself to the wide variety of dogs, learning each name and commenting on each breed. I watched Hank chatting with some woman -

_Human? It's nearly impossible to tell anymore._

\- who had brought her corgis. He was being amicable enough, his demeanor about on par as he was with Danielle or other women who would sit next to him at the bar. Polite but not flirtatious (_I doubt the man even knew the definition of the word_), but also cognizant enough to know when to stop.

The woman walked away with a smile and low wave and I strode over to take her place as Connor remained on the ground with a Golden.

"Spying on me?" Hank asked.

"Not really. Who was that?"

"Dunno. Look, I get what you're doing here, Lana. It can stop."

"Okay. I'm sorry. No more trying to set you up."

"Thanks. Hey, I'm serious. Thanks, but no thanks."

He eyed me up, still suspicious and not quite believing me, before drifting back to stare out at the park and scratch an increasingly impatient Sumo.

I couldn't quite put my finger on why, but Hank was distracted. As I stood with him, both of us watching Connor now chase his new friend several yards and back, my thoughts drifted again. The three of us had fallen back into this routine; nights at the bar or the club, brief lunch hours where Connor would narrate the day's cases, always accompanied with one grumble or another from Hank. I really was lucky, relieved, and looked forward to the warmer weather soon as that would demand a proper weekend away near the lake.

* * *

Connor wanted to learn to dance, actual _dance_ so I found another class at the same community center where we had the painting session. Hank joined with Danielle as his platonic partner in the lesson and Connor and I glanced at each other again in fleeting curiosity. Little did I realize - given that we had all collectively forgotten (or else Connor and Danielle didn't recognize), this was a class in _Irish step dancing_. Hank and I synchronously groaned and he came over to grab me by the arm as the others began to assemble before the instructor.

"It's a god damn good thing I like you and Connor wants to be here cause you OWE me for this shit!"

"Trust me, Hank, you and I will be tripping all over each other. I'm pretty sure we're the only humans here, too. Which is pretty interesting, don't you think?"

Needless to say, Connor's dexterity in the field aided him in the class and Danielle's natural gracefulness contributed to her success as well. They tried to aid Hank and I for a while - Hank's attempts radiated the care and style of a teenager in a calculus classroom, genuine for all of two seconds before wondering when the hell this would be used in daily life - before we both gave up and decided to watch from a line of chairs in the back of the classroom.

"They're pretty good at this shit," Hank said. He was still catching his breath from having nearly pulled a tendon.

"Yeah, well, it is a… very mechanical dance to begin with. All foot and leg work."

During a turn, Connor gave a low wave to us before continuing.

Hank nudged me in the arm and leaned over. "You tell him yet?"

I hadn't even been able to parse out my feelings for Connor, let alone put them into solid words. Love was a strong possibility. Very strong. I sighed and laughed through my nose. "No, Hank. I haven't."

"The hell are you waiting for?"

"Waiting for a time when his _dad_ isn't pressuring me."

Hank grumbled something indiscernible and leaned back in his seat.

"Well hurry it up!"

"Hank!" I hissed. I was wary that Connor might overhear the conversation.

"Okay, fine. I like seeing him happy. Obviously he already is, he tells me every time you two bang."

I was used to the shared knowledge between them now; this didn't even surprise me. "Does he really?"

"Oh yeah, comes into work the next morning or back home with this big stupidass dopey grin on his face. And then as soon as he tells me, it's back to that creepy deadpan look. Tell you one thing, Lana, sometimes I'm scared that CyberLife or something's gonna try hacking him again. I'd kill everyone of those fuckers."

"Somehow I don't think they'd succeed."

"Why's that?"

"Look at him. He's too connected to this new world now, he has us. You had a lot to do with that, Hank."

"How so?"

"He learned a lot from you. How long were you partners before he converted? All of four days? It only took him _four days_ to find someone he cared for and knew he had to protect. He saw and learned how much pain you were in. He understood. All the bad fucked up shit you've been through, Hank...and I'm not saying this lightly...it helped him become human. Now look at you, you and he must have gone through quite the detox program if he trusts you enough to get hammered at my club."

"In hindsight, still shouldn't've. He held my hair and threatened to cut it all off if I was going to get sick again."

"Can I give you an outsider's opinion?"

"Hey, don't call yourself an outsider. Hell's wrong with you. You eat my food, you're sleeping with my partner, you encourage my dirty jokes. Just talk."

"The two of you have one of the most genuine friendships I've ever seen. And I honestly don't think either of you would have survived without the other at the beginning."

"You're probably right. Why are you always right. It pisses me off." Hank smiled and reached behind me to grab a cookie. Instead I brought over the entire small platter for us to share.

"No one else can eat them. And don't tell me that one up front is human. No freaking way."

Three cookies deep, I dared to ask Hank the question that had been plaguing me over the past weeks.

"So what's with you and Danielle?"

"This again? Just friends, I told you."

"Because she's an android?"

"In part."

"In part? What's the other half then, Hank? Got your eye on someone else? Picking up more phone numbers from the ladies at the park?"

He paused to wipe his mouth before indulging in another.

"Hank?"

"Why are you so fucking nosy. The two of you."

"It's because we care, you jackass," I laughed. "Come on, what's going on with you?"

He watched the community center patrons finally begin to nail the dance, fingers playing with another cookie from the tray. His voice was laced with hesitancies and softened up as he spoke, recalling something I didn't imagine I'd ever hear.

"Three years ago. I don't know what happened to her. She had some shit going on. I figured she got caught up in the exodus, fucked right out of here. Keep...thinking she'll just show up. She was always just _showing up_, pain in my ass. You remind me of her."

"What was her name?"

Another pause and contemplative chew.

"Alex."

"Hmm."

"What."

"There's an Alex that just started showing up a few weeks ago. She comes really early so you've never met. I met her online in like a self-help group a while back, you know, Red Ice related. Anyway, I invited her out to the bar so we could meet in person. I don't know much else about her though, she's not one to share. She's about my age, maybe a few years older. Dark hair. Always gets a single rum and coke."

I think Hank stopped breathing at that last comment, narrow eyes fixated on some indiscernible point on the floor, knee furiously jolting beside me.

I leaned forward to try and capture his lost gaze. "Do you know her?"

The class had conveniently ended and Connor and Danielle were coming over.

Hank hissed at me. "You say anything to him and I'm throwing your ass in a cell. Got it?"

I believed him. He'd dig something up from my case file so the arrest wasn't completely trumped.

"Did you two enjoy yourselves?" Danielle asked.

"It looks like Hank consumed his sugar for the day," Connor noted. I put the tray back before he could do us the favor.

I followed Connor out as Danielle said goodbye to Hank with a light touch to the arm.

I had to wonder then. Even if this woman was just a friend, Hank seemed to be enjoying her company more than he let on. Was she a distraction from this Alex?

The woman I met at the bar, the demons were obvious in her eyes. I had learned from our conversations that she, too, had a brother fall victim to the drug, but his tragedy was due to use, dead only shortly after being released from jail. It was also during the time of Hank's Red Ice bust, so that would have been between '27 and '28. Did they know each other back then? How the fuck did they know each other three years ago? Prior to Connor's introduction, Hank would have been a mess, at the height of receiving those disciplinary reports, only a couple years after his own tragedy. And yet, at the mere thought that this woman was the one he once knew, he froze. What the _fuck_ had happened between them? Brief fling? One night stand? Summer romance? I couldn't fathom Hank partaking in any of those.

I know Connor would be upset at this, as he had before, but I'd hold Hank's secret. This was something much too sensitive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've really been enjoying writing Hank; he's so much fun and I've been wanting to explore and flesh him out a bit more. If you're interested to learn more about Hank and his mystery gal, head over to my prequel-fic, 'Hankerings.'


	20. Hank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the huge lack of updates. My creativity has been completely lacking. (I was also playing Death Stranding almost non-stop and suddenly it's months later..) Thank you for your patience <3

As the weeks wore on, I noticed Hank’s eyes darting more and more to the front door whenever the bell chimed. Was he looking for that woman? Finally one evening Connor caught me spacing out in the shower ( _ so glad he’s waterproof _ ) and asked if something was on my mind. I was not an effective secret-keeper, especially when I had a naked Connor in front of me.  _ How the fuck does that hair still stay so fucking perfect. _

“Hank’s going to kill me if I told you.”

He cocked his head under the spray as he soaped up my arms. “I doubt it can be worse than the last news you revealed.”

I scoffed. “Not at all. No, but it’s not really my secret to tell. Especially since some of it’s still speculation.”

He was silent for a moment. I knew he was wondering again why Hank was keeping yet another secret. I tried to alleviate his concern: “Hey, look, it’s like, remember when I first asked you if he was an alcoholic? And you didn’t want to give the whole story? It’s kinda like that? He’ll probably tell you if you just ask. Or uh, what if you come to the bar early one day, get out of work, don’t bring Hank.”

“I don’t follow. Are you only going to tell me when you’re not sufficiently distracted?”

I had my back to him and his fingers were being  _ sufficiently distracting _ .

“Something like that,” I said.  _ Way to change the topic, Connor _ . _ I guess even our dutiful investigator wanted to well...investigate something else. _ He was becoming more human every day.

I arched back and propped up a foot on the edge of the tub, careful not to lose my balance as both his hands were now contributing to the distraction. One set of fingers curled between my legs, the other massaging my breast a tad rougher than usual, mouth lost in my neck and that gracious  _ investment _ from CyberLife nestled right where it should be. I told him to shut off the water so there could be  _ some _ ounce of traction and friction.

I made a vain attempt to swivel around but he reestablished full contact, and held tighter, fingers deepening in flexing pulsations. He already had me gasping, shaky legs clamping around his hand. I had to splay a palm along the shower wall to stop myself from lurching forward and taking him down with me.

_ We didn’t need any crushed skulls on fiberglass _ .

I wasn’t sure how that conversation would go with his roommate, but I could imagine.

_ That’s it! You can pay the bill to CyberLife and then get the fuck outta here! He’s not a play-thing! _

I swallowed a giggle at the imagery, my mind gone mute and cries guttural as I came around Connor’s fingers. I held his arm for a moment before allowing myself to slip down and kneel in recovery. He had been quiet, wholly focused on getting me off that when he spoke in offer to get me a towel, I was only dimly aware and nodded a vague  _ sure _ .

_ Holy hell. Magic dick, magic tongue, magic fingers...what was going to be next? _

I looked over to watch the first  _ magic object _ reapproach and while an idea struck me, I wasn’t sure I had the energy. Rather, I allowed Connor to help and wrap me up, planting a soft kiss on my cheek as if fearful I’d collapse back from too much pressure.

“That was satisfactory then?” he asked.

“As if you couldn’t tell.”

“I know, but I like to ask. You should know I haven’t been analyzing you. This is all me.”

He was proud of himself and wanted to reiterate that. He really had come so far (no pun intended) and continued to do so every day. We had spoken previously concerning this; how many of the androids in the city were taking full advantage of all the subsequent upgrades that had been produced by CyberLife, but there was still a segment of the population, maybe less than half, perhaps much less than half, who wanted to learn the old-fashioned way. This was evident by the community centers, a new library, a school even. For the humans who remained, and at the time, myself included, the androids’ ability to surpass us in every way imaginable was not so much frightening - the scared had already left and stayed away - as it was perhaps disconcerting, slightly uncomfortable, like we didn’t have much in common because they already  _ knew _ how to do things at an ‘unnatural’ pace. Thus, I wholly appreciated Connor’s desire from day one of his deviance to appreciate his newfound intelligence and awareness and absorb the environment around him as the rest of us did.

Not to say I hadn’t thought of taking advantage of those analytical abilities. But I stopped myself. In the pit of my gut, it almost felt like cheating the system.

“Lana, are you going to tell me what’s going on with Hank now? Why did you want me to accompany you at the bar without him?”

I was in the middle of redressing when he asked this and I paused. I didn’t really know what to tell him. Hank would kill me. So this was my loophole.

“Just... trust me. Tomorrow’s Thursday, right? I think you should come with.”

Thursday was the girl’s usual day and I was determined to put the pieces together.

* * *

Connor sat at the end of the bar and I asked him how he managed to get out early.

“Oh, well whenever I mention I want to spend more time with you, Hank simply groans and locks me out of his office. As long as my work is complete to his satisfaction, I’m free to go and there were no open cases for me.”

“Ah, okay, well hopefully that works. She should be here soon.”

At 5:05 on the dot, the door bell clanged and the woman whose name nearly gave Hank a heart attack entered. Average height, medium dark hair, and she held herself tight, as you would to protect yourself from the world and its horrors and anxieties. Over the few weeks she had been appearing here, I never saw her stand or sit straight, always lost within herself.

I said her name upon entering which startled her from taking her seat in the corner. I beckoned her over to take the chair next to Connor, who nodded in greeting. She was already suspicious but acquiesced and slid in.

I got her usual and she flashed an awkward smile before her first sip.

“Alex,” I said. “Do you uh - do you know a man named Hank? Hank Anderson?”

She cleared her throat and set the glass back down, straightening in her stool for the first time ever to stretch her neck.

She was immediately on edge; she kept her straight back and propped crossed arms on the ledge to look at me squarely. “Yeah. Why do you want to know? How do you know him?”

Connor volunteered, pivoting to look at her. “We work together at the Department. My name is Connor. I was assigned to Hank a couple years ago; we’ve been working together ever since.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me. Hank, with an android case partner? God, things have changed. You’re fucking kidding me. Look, I’m sorry, I love… androids now. I do. You know, shit’s changed. I just uh, never thought that would happen with him. So, okay, you know Hank from work, but what about you?”

She was asking me now. “I - kind of assumed you knew. He comes here. That’s how I met the two of them. And you always leave before he shows up, so I figured that was on purpose.”

Her leg was bouncing and she was chewing her lip, unsure how to reply to this. “Yeah, I mean, it’s all one big fucking coincidence, isn’t it.”

She slid out of her stool and chugged the rest of the drink in a single swallow, tossing a ten on the counter.

“Look, uh, why did you think I knew him anyway? How’d that happen?”

I sighed. This would be news to Connor, as well.

“Hank uh, he mentioned you the other day. We’ve been wanting to find him a girlfriend but he’s so damn resistant. I’m guessing now you’re why.”

“How do you know Hank?” Connor asked.

It looked like she was almost about to reply before she shook her head and made for the door. “I’m sorry, but that’s not really any of your damn business. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to him. But I have no reason to trust you’d do that, now do I?”

She left without another glance or word, leaving Connor and I in a greater state of confusion than before.

“Lana, when did she start coming here?”

I told him what I had told Hank. I met her online, invited her out, then my conversation with Hank at the community center was my revelation, and she solidified the fact.

“We shouldn’t ask him,” Connor said. “I think you’re right. This is his to share. But however they knew each other, it did not end on amicable terms.”

* * *

I gave myself time off the following week to head up to the house on the lake; I hadn’t been there in a while and simply wanted to catch up with the staff and help prepare. I wanted to treat Hank and Connor to a vacation, hoping they would both be able to do so soon.

I came back into the area in the late evening, the days finally growing longer as the seasons changed, and made a last minute decision to swing by the DPD and see if Connor was available for an early out.

The receptionist allowed me back with a visitor's badge. Hank and Connor were in his glass-walled office towards the back discussing something very adamantly. I didn't want to interrupt. On my quest to find Connor's desk, Gavin halted me with an outstretched hand.

"What're you doing here. Interrogation room's being used."

"Don't be an ass. You mind if I wait?"

It was the first real conversation Gavin and I had that wasn't him full of being a jerk. He filled me in on his own cases for about fifteen minutes before I noticed Connor finally emerge from the office. He was noticeably distracted and Gavin took advantage of this before I could say anything.

He wadded up a document from his desk and tossed it across the wide aisle; Connor promptly caught it and nailed it back right into Gavin’s forehead, a sly smile crossing his face which filled out when he noticed I was sitting at the desk as well. He came over and asked what I was doing here so late.

“Wanted to see if I could get you out early. But uh, looks like Hank was fired up about something.”

“When is he not,” Gavin said. “Captain’s been in a weird mood recently. You two have something to do with that?”

I sighed and shook my head; I wasn’t about to share the story further.

“I can leave,” Connor said. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready.”

* * *

In the car on the short ride back, I asked Connor if his exchange with Gavin was part of their newfound ‘understanding’ he had mentioned previously.

“Yes,” he said. “Gavin’s an asshole so I’ve found that the only way to be amicable with him is to be one right back. I hope you don’t mind.”

I had to laugh. “Not at all, I’m just glad you’re not ripping each other’s faces off and he’s finally chilled it. I had a good talk with him when I was waiting for you.”

I parked along the sidewalk and I followed Connor in, flipping a few lights on in our path. The house was quiet and I trailed Connor down the hall where he had already turned into his bedroom, although I was confused for a moment when I didn’t see him. I left and then poked my head into Hank’s room, where I now noticed Connor with his back to the doorway, kneeling on the floor before a stretched out Sumo.

“Hey, what’re you - oh God. Connor -”

“I’m calling Hank.”

“No, no wait. Let me - I’ll go get him. We can’t - not over the phone. Oh my God. Are you -”

“Go,” he said.

* * *

I illegally and haphazardly parked in front of the DPD, bursting through the front door. I begged the receptionist to let me past the gates, blindly navigating the desks up to Hank’s office. His head was buried in his arms and I paused, thinking he may have been asleep, but he had the phone to his ear, cursing away at something or other.

“Hank.”

He sat up and waved a hand.  _ Get out _ .

“Hank!”

“Fucking hell, let me call you back, got a damn emergency here.” He tossed the cell phone in front of him, at first angry at being interrupted so late in the evening, but then his features hardened in confusion when he began to register the worry in my eyes.

“You okay? Is Connor all right?”

I shook my head. “No. I mean, he’s fine. He’s at your place, but - Hank - um - you need to get back there. Right now.”

He pushed away from his desk and slowly stood, still not quite understanding. “The fuck’s going on, Lana. I can’t take any more fucking surprises -”

“It’s Sumo. Hank, Sumo’s - you gotta - come on. I’ll drive you.”

“Sumo’s what, Lana. Fucking tell me already.”

“He uh - he was dead when Connor and I got back. I don’t -”

Hank immediately grabbed his things and pushed past me with a violent arm. I ran after him through the department and out into the night. He ignored my yells for me to drive him, taking his own car instead around the corner. I spun after him, arriving back at their place only moments after.

I hesitated for just a moment before following. I could hear Hank from his room, dire curses emanating through the house. My own tears broke through but I suppressed them through both hands as I sat on the floor near the entry. I didn’t dare approach; this was for family and as much as I wanted to check on them both, I waited.

Another five minutes perhaps and Connor came out, so heavy with what just happened. His light was a solid faint red, a new shade invented by his systems just for this. He immediately came over and I stood, embracing him fully and firmly as he hung his head against my shoulder, and cried.

I had never seen him do this before, didn’t even know he could, and yet -

_ The fuck was I contemplating this for? Now of all times? _

He held me tight, fingers flexing in the fabric along my back, tears spilling down my neck. And somewhere in the background was sudden silence. Hank’s own curses muted as I could only imagine he was either holding Sumo’s body on the floor or already half way through a bottle hidden under his bed. 

I held Connor, choking back my own tears, letting him collapse in his own heap on the floor with me. This was his first time dealing with the loss of a pet, with actual grief over a living creature. Connor liked dogs. 

He loved Sumo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've given Connor fun and exciting experiences; but life isn't always full of positives. How will he manage? How will Hank?


	21. Reunion

A week after Sumo’s passing, Hank still hadn’t returned to work. He was in a deep state of grief and most of Connor’s free time now between work shifts was to remain home and ensure Hank didn’t do anything stupid. He had relapsed, from what Connor told me, relapsed back to something even worse than his state when they first met. I barely saw the man myself even on the day or two I hung around and helped clean. Seeing Sumo’s empty bed, still a toy waiting for him in the middle of the blankets, my heart broke all over again for the pup and his master who had already lost too much in his life.

Connor pulled me aside one evening to ask whether it would be a good idea to mention any of this to Alex, Hank's old mystery girl, should she ever return to the bar.

I hadn’t seen her since we made the mistake of questioning her about Hank. That still wouldn’t stop Connor from using his resources to try and find her, though. He’d do anything for his friend. 

“I’m not sure, Connor. We still have no idea what happened between them, she might make things worse, we don’t really know anything.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“But?”

Connor’s LED was always a give-away. “But maybe she knows how to help him.”

“She won’t,” Hank grunted.

He startled us both. He was standing in the hallway wrapped in the fluffy blanket that Connor had given him on his most recent birthday.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see her? Did she know Sumo?” Connor asked.

“Shut it! Don’t mention him and don’t mention her again, got it? Not in the mood to get into that with the two of you. Why don’t you two go back to your place, Lana. I’m fine here.”

“Hank-” Connor tried again.

Hank pushed out a deep sigh, rolling his eyes to the ceiling in an effort to not punch a hole in his wall. This already occurred once this week.

Forcefully calmer he said, “I’m serious. I need some time alone. It’s okay. Connor… trust me. It’s okay. Please, kid.”

“Okay. But you call us if you need something.”

“Yeah yeah. Get outta here.”

I tossed back one last worried smile as Connor and I departed for the night. We headed down the path to the sidewalk and I stopped him for a moment at the curb.

“Connor, are you sure? The two of you need each other. Are you okay with this as well? He came to be your dog, too, you know.”

Connor stared at me for a few long moments before nodding almost imperceptibly. “I did love him, of course, but Hank does need some space. I think I would like to go back to the office, though, Lana. You should go home.”

“Okay, yeah, whatever you need to do, I get it. Can I walk with you to the station then I’ll grab a cab?”

“Of course.”

When we were a block from the station we noticed a woman exit and headed in our direction.

“Is that-?”

“Yes,” said Connor.

She noticed us and halted for a moment before she continued towards us. Too late to cross the street, I guess.

We paused within speaking distance.

“Alex, what are you doing here? Are you all right?” Connor asked.

“What? Oh, yeah, just uh - I was looking for Hank. Figured it was about time I find him. He’s not in. He at home? What? Is he okay?”

Connor answered, taking a step closer. Her eyes darted between us now. “We just left him, yes. He is grieving. His dog died last week.”

“_ Shit _.”

“I don’t know if - is that a good idea? Alex?”

She was already a half block behind us, more utterances of “_ Shit _” piercing the night as she ran.

The night that I trailed Hank back to the house, after a solid hour of holding Connor on the floor, after hearing Hank curse and scream and cry, after I cleaned up broken glass from outside his room and returned to the living room floor to hold Connor again, I felt that _ pang _ in my chest. This was not the time for outward confessions, but I could at least admit it to myself now.

I loved this man.

He had stopped crying and held onto me on the floor with his head on my leg and my hand through his hair. The light from Hank’s bedroom had gone out and the home was eerily quiet. When Connor finally noticed this, he shot up and darted to Hank’s bedroom.

I heard the older man faintly grumble something and a few minutes later, Connor emerged.

“It’s okay,” he said as I stood up. “But I think you should go home, Lana. I need to stay here. I need to - to make sure - “

“Are you sure? I could always stay on the sofa, I - “

Connor cut me off with a regretful shake of his head. “It is best to leave for a while. I’m grateful that you were here tonight and that you retrieved Hank, but…”

“It’s okay, I get it. You’re family.”

“Lana, I - I still need you. But right now -” he gazed down the hall. It was time.

“Okay. Okay, but you need to take care of yourself, too, Connor. You’ve never had anything like this before, don’t forget about yourself.”

“I won’t.”

Connor would tell me later that week the death of Sumo and these beginning phases of grief were like a new type of pain he had indeed never experienced. The best way he could describe it was like a vice grip around his circuits, like a tension in his veins, not enough thirium traveling to his limbs despite being completely full. He experienced a light-headedness he’d only had a couple times before out in the field upon receiving a gash, but this time it had come on by simply watching other dogs pull on their leashes at the park. He experienced phantom noises and sights in the middle of the night despite being in rest mode and went for a diagnostic. (His read-out would later be sent back to CyberLife as additional data for study as more and more androids lost family pets for the first time.) 

He was going through something extraordinary; tragic, confusing, and depressing, but still extraordinary.

As we watched Alex run off into the dark tonight, Connor experienced another emotion: pity.

“I feel bad for her, Lana. She obviously knew Sumo, which concludes they knew each other on a personal level," he said. "Hank has lost so much. Wife and a son, her, now his dog. Hank is stronger than any of us give him credit for, but I am afraid how this reunion will go. Perhaps we were mistaken in not stopping her. He was very adamant about being left alone tonight.”

“I don’t know. He’ll tell us when he’s ready.”

We arrived at the DPD and I left Connor for the night. We didn’t hear from or see Hank for three days. We stopped by briefly once so Connor could at least make sure Hank was alive and grab a few changes of clothes for work.

But Hank was distracted and had gotten very poor at hiding his emotions. He was visibly trying to suppress a smile. A very weak, distant, and contemplative smile. He brushed us back out of the house quickly.

“Just, uh, need some more alone time, Connor. Told the boss I’d be back but you’re handling it well. How about you pick me up in couple days. Promise.” 

Two days later, Connor was just reaching out to the front door when he paused and turned back. He was smiling down the path back to the car.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Connor slipped back into the passenger’s seat, still beaming. “I heard laughter. I haven’t heard Hank laugh since Sumo died. I don’t want to disturb them.”

“Alex was in there.”

“Yes. It was her voice. I am happy for him, he needs this. Let’s leave them be. Even if he does miss another day at the department.”

“I’ll drop you off then?”

“Please.”

Connor had been working longer days to run the department in Hank’s absence. Even though the grief was a new experience for him, he seemed to process it faster, possibly through a better understanding of the psychology and stages behind it. He enjoyed being in charge, as well, but he missed his partner.

And Hank... I looked forward to his exasperated sighs and dirty jokes and maybe finally learning about this woman who made him laugh again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a nice long quarantine summer of no updates, hasn't it. Sorry everyone, this year's obviously been insane, but I am back. Enjoy.


	22. Socializations

“The fuck are you two looking at?”

I sighed. I had been holding in my breath while looking over Hank’s face at the kitchen table. Connor leaned forward to match my posture, one hand on his knee, the other elbow on the table to cradle his chin.

We were both peering at this man with morbid fascination.

I don’t know about Connor, but I was looking for hickeys and didn’t see any, and even though I couldn’t see his LED from this angle, it must have been on overdrive.

“Ah geez, come on, let me have my damn coffee in peace, will ya? And didn’t I tell you to stay away for a while?”

“You did, but Lana came over last night unannounced with promises of sex -”

Hank groaned backward so hard he nearly fell out of his chair and I yelled Connor’s name loud enough to wake up the neighbors across the street.

“Yes, I heard,” grumbled Hank back in his coffee. “Way to rub it in,” he mumbled even lower.

“Oh? Are you ever gonna tell us what’s up with this girl, Hank? You’ve barely touched your food, Connor’s light is probably about to spin right out of its socket, and I’m sure you don’t want a fire here, so spill it!”

Hank straightened up in his chair, crossed his arms, leaned over towards me….

“No.”

This was the first time I really had a chance to talk to Hank since we ran into Alex on the street, which was about two weeks ago at this point. Connor had been over once or twice and all I had gathered from him was more of how distracted Hank seemed. Connor knew more than he let on, however; I was convinced. He would know every single spike and dip in Hank’s blood pressure, variation in voice pitch, and caloric intake. He probably even analyzed the volume of Hank’s jizz in their trashcans. He hadn’t shared any of this with me, probably out of simple respect for his friend, but even without Connor’s analysis, I knew.

“You fucked, didn’t you?” I asked flatly.

“For fuck’s sake, Lana, no! Geez. I think it’s time you get out of here and let Connor and I get to the station. Now!”

* * *

That weekend, Connor invited me out to an amphitheater on Atwater. One of their colleagues was retiring and the entire station was having a little out-door get together at the park. Hank and Connor drove together immediately after work and I met them shortly after in the early evening. The area itself was beautiful right near the river, a sizable sound stage, ample seating, and greenery at the back for lounging and picnics, which was where I found the boys.

“_Fuck _,” Hank muttered. “Forgot the keg. Be right back.” Hank dashed off back to his car where he had parked a couple blocks away. The remaining officers, Connor included - and Gavin who exchanged a wave with us both - were already in a lively conversation about recent events. I spied the grounds, absently searching for Alex whom Connor had mentioned he called on behalf of Hank.

“He spoke to her himself, of course,” he clarified, “but he didn’t want to, at first. He seems...conflicted.”

“Oh, I bet he is. She’s from his previous life, even before you knew him - oh, I think I see her, stay here for a bit? I’ll go say hi and bring her over.”

I managed to gather Alex from her spot on the lawn a few yards away and included an apology for good measure. Hank was being fiercely private about this and yet, here she was.

“Hey, uh, you know I’m sorry for being intrusive the other week, jumping on you with Connor like that. We’ve just been concerned for Hank. Hope it didn’t make things worse.”

“No, it’s been fine. I don’t know what he has or hasn’t said to you guys, I don’t-”

“Oh, not much of anything, he’s been kinda distracted but he’s pretty tight-lipped. Glad you’re here, though.” As we walked, I noticed she spaced out, probably looking for Hank.

“He’s getting a keg.”

“What?”

“Hank. He was getting a keg from the car. Should be back in a second.”

“The law’s loosened up, I see.”

“Hey, if you’re worried, he’s been really good, at least for as long as I’ve known him. Only recent time he was pretty wasted was the night he sang ‘_Thrift Shop _’ for karaoke. Oh yeah, that was a sight. I might even still have the security tape to show you sometime. Definitely was one of his better moods.”

Hank had returned with the keg and noting our presence, he tossed a nod in greeting.

“There’s so much I wanna know about the two of you and I’ve got nothing. Hey, sorry, I won’t ask. Whatever bad ju-ju happened before is still between the two of you.”

“There wasn’t... there wasn’t ‘_bad ju-ju _ ’,” she said. “I had to go away and take care of things. Then I got stuck and couldn’t make it back anyway. That’s all.”

“Yeah?”

I didn’t want to push or pry, really I wanted to get to know her better. If she had come back for Hank, if there was any hope of them maybe getting back together, well, I wanted to try and be friends. She was going to be a tough nut to crack.

But as she watched Hank with his department, she softened and turned to me with an almost imperceptible smile.

“Hank was a total wreck when we met. I’m sure you know the timeline there. His son died, he got a divorce, his disciplinary record was off the charts and he was trying to kill himself every day with the alcohol and smoking and other dangerous shit like not getting caught on DUIs. I finally had enough of seeing him leave the bar by himself and always come in just to pass out in the corner. I helped him get home, helped clean his house, and then it started evolving into something and I ...but then I had to leave. And it turns out he had taken my leaving harder than I thought. He’s so different now. So am I. I just...want to spend time with him again. _ Fuck _, here I go reminiscing. I barely know you -”

Hank approached from around the group. I noted his eyes flit over Alex, like he had to restrain himself. "Glad you're here." Pointing a beer at me, he asked, “Fuck you two doing. Oh god, you’re swapping dick stories, aren’t you. Shit. Come on and grab one before you say anything else to each other.”

“What is he-?” Alex asked me.

“I’ll tell you later,” I said.

We found Connor, grabbed a couple drinks, and mingled to the backdrop of the music on stage. As Captain, Hank was mostly occupied with his team. Hoping to garner some laughs, I pulled Alex aside again to fill her in on Hank’s behavior around Connor and I. And to tell her about the morning when I ran into Hank in the hallway at their place, open robe and all.

“Sadly society still does not approve,” came Hank again to Alex’s side. “What kinda shit are they telling you about me?”

“The juicy stuff, Hank,” she said. “How you are _ relentless _with the dirty jokes and innuendos.”

“Please, I’m a fucking peach to live with." To me, he said, "You like the jokes and they will _continue _until this one -

(he pointed at Connor)

“ - either takes a vow of celibacy or you learn to do the dirty _ outside of my house _ .”

“Does that include the car?” Connor asked, knowing exactly what he said and what he meant by it.

“_Yes, that includes the car, Connor_. No one gets to have sex in that vehicle except for _ me _.”

I noted the glance towards Alex.

“_Fuck _.” He left us again to rejoin the others.

“Is that something we can ask about?” Connor asked her.

“No!”

We spent the next hour on the grass a bit away swapping stories to catch Alex up on life since meeting Hank. We gave her the short versions of some of their cases. I could tell she must have heard some of this from Hank himself but encouraged us to continue. Connor also included the tale of walking in on Hank jerking it in the Interrogation Room when he went to retrieve a file from Observation only a few weeks ago.

"Oh, it was very awkward. It was like...watching a car wreck. You can't look away until it's too late."

Alex buried her head in her knees to stifle her laughter and I had to raise an eyebrow, wondering why I never heard this one until now.

Connor immediately switched topics and asked Alex why she left Detroit.

She took a moment to reply but I hoped by now we had softened her up enough to get a bit more of her story. I couldn’t have predicted her reply.

“I was a cutter,” she said. “Used to do it a lot when I was a teenager, and then again after my brother overdosed back in ‘27. And then again after spending more time with Hank. Things were getting intense between us, I mean, it was _good_. It was something. But it kinda - we just had different ways of coping with our shit, ya know? He was disappointed, which really says something given how he was fucking himself up. I finally realized I needed some time away and checked myself into a clinic for a while. After that, I was up and down the coast of Erie helping with border crossings. That was most of the past two years. Just helping androids and seeing all that horror. That story's for another night, though. Or if Hank wants to fill you in, I told him most of it.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’d love to hear more of that. I don’t think we ever talked about it online.”

“No, I never brought it up.”

“So are you two -”

I shut up when I saw Hank approach again. He flopped down on the grass next to Alex and stretched out. He looked behind her to ask me, “So what the fuck kinda stories you all sharing, huh?”

“Pretty good ones. Something about the Interrogation Room?” Alex asked. There was a tinge of _knowing _in her voice and smile. That room.

“Connor!” he screamed, scrambling to stand up.

“Oh no,” I heard Connor whisper before bolting.

Hank proceeded to chase him halfway down the block before tackling him into the sidewalk.

_ Please don’t damage the goods_.

It was obvious that Connor threw the concrete wrestling match to provide Hank a much-needed ego boost.

“I think I should actually get going if that’s all right,” Alex said. “It’s been a long week and frankly I’m getting a bit of a headache, I’m sorry.”

“Okay, well I’m glad you came. This was fun getting to know you finally.”

“You, too.”

I watched her part up the low slope and waited for Connor to return. He was still straightening and brushing off his shirt from their tackle.

“Did you lose Hank?”

“I think they are saying goodbye down the block.”

“I bet they are,” I teased. “What do you think about her?”

“I like her. I can understand the hesitancy now and their desire to keep things private, but I’m glad she opened up. They used each other to cope but they also cared for each other, I can tell, even without analyzing. She cared enough to make sure he didn’t kill himself and he cared enough not to push her away. Her circumstances are very unfortunate, but she was perking up as we spoke. I hope she and Hank are able to figure things out and we see her again.”

“Oh, I think we will. Look at Mr. Smiley coming back over.”

“Hank! Did you and Alex sufficiently make out as part of your goodbye?” Connor yelled.

Yep. This is why I loved this man.

Hank halted in his step, gave Connor the middle finger, and stomped back to the other officers who were now imitating flamingos looking between Connor and Hank with wide eyes and gasps of _ “Atta boy, Captain!” _

* * *

“Okay, you both have _got _to stop giving me those looks. You’re both fuckin’ creepy and I swear to God, Connor, if you say anything inappropriate, I’m shipping you Fedex to fuckin’ CyberLife out in California!”

“Oh, so _you _can say all sorts of inappropriate things about us, but the second we open our mouths, you have an issue? Uh-huh, yeah, Hank, that’s not hypocritical _ at all _.”

“And _you, _little miss ‘_I-need-to-set-up-Hank-with-every-woman-in-the-city,_’ how ‘bout ya just take this as a win, leave me alone, and for Christsakes, stop fucking in my house! How many more times do I gotta - hey!”

His voice toned down from brash to professional upon Alex’s entrance in the bowling alley. She knew she had just walked into something but rather than ask she offered a low wave to us on the plastic benches and settled beside Hank to swap her shoes.

The last and only time we had been here was the day that Hank wanted to talk to me in private about Connor. That seemed so long ago now but it was only earlier this year when our discussion had me thinking about dating his roommate.

I was happy for Hank, but holy hell was the tension palpable. What was he waiting for?

The second she took a break to find more snacks, I asked.

“Didn’t I tell you it was none of your damn business? Geez. Don’t give me that look! What? _ Ah fuck _. Look, it’s been over two years, all right? Not gonna just jump back into things, okay. You didn’t know us back then. It was…”

Hank brushed aside the rest of his sentence with a wave, quickly steering his attention back to Connor who was, again, much too good at this game.

“Come on, Connor, try not poking your fingers in all three holes! Maybe only one at a time, don’t need to be an overachiever.”

“Connor! For fucks’ sake, stop knocking so many of the pins down! Girls like it when they’re up! Up, Connor!”

“I swear to Christ, his posture is still too good. I feel inadequate just looking at him. Lana, will you please loosen a pin or something next time you’re down there?”

I wanted to throw my soda at his head for these comments.

“Hank! This shit is EXACTLY why you need to get laid!”

Laugher interrupted my admonishment of the man and I realized that Alex had been standing behind us at a high table partaking in a platter of nachos.

“I’m sorry! I just wanted to eat and listen to you all.” She was still laughing into her food, Hank was as red as the cheap industrial carpet, and Connor actually missed his pins.

“I agree, Hank,” he said as he came back to sit. “Lana and I will stay at her place this week if you need alone time. Humans who have not experienced a sexual release in some time seem to have pent up emotions-”

“I release perfectly regularly, Connor!” Hank grumbled something else into his Slushie, tossed a quick look back at Alex, and very angrily grabbed his ball to take his turn.

\---

By the following Friday, I had only seen Connor once as he was still assisting with Hank’s backlog at the station and confessed that they were both still experiencing grief over Sumo’s absence in the house.

“Hank becomes very morose. Some nights he falls asleep in his chair holding Sumo’s collar. I don’t - I don’t know what to do for him. He’s focused at work and when we’re out and you saw how happy he was when we were all at the park and the bowling alley last week. I’m concerned.”

“I know you are. And he’ll get through it, he’s been through shit before. He’ll be okay. These things take time.”

Connor took my hand as we sat together on my sofa at home. I asked him how he was coping.

“I miss him. It’s strange. Animals don’t live very long and humans know this. We all know this. Larger breeds live very short lives but they seem to be the most attentive. And Sumo cared for Hank very much.” Connor broke a small smile. “It’s funny though, Sumo must have been used to Hank’s old habits. The night I broke into his house, Sumo seemed to only care about his food. Otherwise, he was perfectly content to sit in the living room even while Hank was passed out on the kitchen floor.”

The remainder of that night was spent on the sofa.

The sofa, the kitchen, finally upstairs where we found one of his ties and he wrapped it around my wrists and a leg of my bed.

Wonder if this was something else he had researched. Or asked Hank about. I swear, I wasn't sure I wanted to know what the two of them talked about in private.

Connor had wrapped his arms around my legs to keep them apart as he lay on his stomach on the floor, head burrowed, kisses taunting my inner thighs followed by gentle bites and soft apologetic fingers.

Instinctively, I grasped the tie and pulled but that mouth kept me in place. Using two fingers to spread and a third to insert, he dragged his tongue miserably slowly, circling my clit. He held tighter as I gasped and jolted with each motion, my legs twitched as he sucked, pointed tongue running among his fingers to replace the third and angled himself just _so_ to push deeper.

"_Ffff Connor_," I gasped. He shifted, lips and tongue never breaking contact and slipped his hands up my body to tease my nipples between lithe fingers. I pushed back in an effort to grind into that mouth but I had reached the end of my restraint.

"_Connor. Come up here," _ I managed between exhales.

He groaned weakly, languid and reluctant to obey but detached only enough to trail taunting light kisses up my abdomen, my breasts, neck... his erection pressed on my thighs and I smiled into his kiss, tasting myself in that damn mouth.

He knelt back, teasing me with the head of his cock for all of a second before sliding in, a near-silent moan escaping his lips as he watched himself push deeper with each plunge.

I sighed his name again and he lowered, picking up pace and without pausing or breaking contact, Connor slid a hand up my arm to loosen the tie and release me, my hands immediately snapping down to cup his ass, urging him to hurry.

_I was going to have the worst rug-burn after this_.

Connor was panting in my ear and I could see his LED going haywire in the corner of my vision. I steered his face to press our foreheads together and I could hold his gaze through half-open eyes and desperate kisses.

He brushed a thumb along my cheek and didn't break eye contact through his last fervent thrusts as he came and all I wanted was to fucking tell him that I loved him. He was also so damn _good_, he deserved to know.

So why couldn't I say it?

Wanting to sound out the words was like choking on air.

I released moments after, staring up at the ceiling in hopes that maybe the phrase would form from the shadows and help me vocalize my thoughts.

What was I waiting for?

* * *

* * *

Hank’s knee was bouncing so hard it was going to punch a hole through his kitchen table.

“You nervous?” I asked him.

“What? No, fuck no, I’m not nervous.”

“Hank, you’ve flipped over your phone ten times in the past three and a half minutes,” Connor noted. “What time did you tell her to come?”

“Oh, I uh - don’t know.”

“Hank. Give me your phone,” Connor said.

“No, I don’t trust you.”

“Hank.”

“Fine! Sick and tired of you two busting my nuts about this. So what if I’m nervous? Do ya blame me?”

Hank pulled at his hair, temporarily imbuing himself with a ‘nutty professor’ look.

“God! I don’t know what I’m doing, all right? You fuckers happy? I know the three of you talked at the park. This whole thing’s turning into the damn _ Brady Bunch _ and yeah, I wanna have some fuckin’ alone time with her without you two hanging around. But I don’t - I don’t know how ta, ya know… _ You know _.”

“Date?” Connor offered. He was typing something into Hank’s phone. Hank noted this and rolled his eyes and looked at me to answer.

“Yes.”

“You weren’t dating before?” I asked. Now we’re getting somewhere, I thought.

“No. I mean..._ no _. Yes. I don’t know, not really. She was just you know, always here and we’d uh, you know.”

“Fuck?” Connor said.

Hank and I both stared at him as he clicked off the cell and placed it back face-down on the table. He spoke as if giving the weather report.

_Today was a clear sunny day, 70 degrees and a slight breeze, with a chance of _fucking.

Hank drew out his words as he replied. “_Yes_, _ Connor, we fucked _. Shit. What were you just doing there?”

“Oh. I clarified that she should come by now. She is on her way.”

“Thanks...But if either of you say _ anything_, I’m tossing you out, ya hear me?”

“Yes, Hank,” said Connor.

Hank turned his pointed finger in my direction.

“Yes! Fine! Okay. I concede. I won’t say anything. But I can’t promise there won’t be any foul hand gestures,” I said. Hank knew I was referencing the ‘drill’ incident and only grunted in reply.

\---

Monopoly. A game that destroys friendships.

Play turned heated within the hour after Hank got a papercut on a property card. Blaming Connor for this, Hank grappled him around the neck, attempting to shove his player piece up his nose, but not before taking all of our pieces and stuffing them down his pants in immediate retaliation for going broke.

Connor demanded that he hand them over _at once _for sanitizing.

Each time Alex got up to deliver another round of beers to the three of us, Hank’s gaze drifted before snapping back when he noticed I was watching him. Wide eyes threatened to shoot me in the brain. After Hank was sufficiently beaten and only continued to take turns from sheer politeness at this point, Connor paused and picked up one of the empty cans on the floor, examining it.

Alex noticed this first. "What's the matter?" she asked.

"Oh. Well, I was always curious about something," Connor said.

"Yeah, Connor, what's that?" Hank asked, not entirely interested given his recent humiliation.

"Well, I've heard the term 'beer can' in reference to a man's penis. And I'm curious."

Oh no. I tried to stop this. "Connor -"

"You wanna measure yourself, Connor?" Hank perked up. "All right, seeing as everyone here's already seen mine, there's no shame left."

"Hank! No!" I laughed, protesting this comparison. Why did he have to corrupt Connor? Why? "Don't you dare! Don't you dare, Connor! You stay right there!”

"Oh, I wouldn't mind seeing this," Alex whispered next to me.

I was still trying to protest this development. I was all about Connor’s education, but really? Hank slapped his knees to stand, told Connor to get up, and took the can. Both men now stood at one end of the coffee table and with no qualms or decency, unzipped and held the can between them.

Connor was enthralled with Hank’s explanation of girth.

_Should I be worried_?

"Have the two of you really never compared before?" Alex asked.

Hank snapped his attention back while zipping up. "What? No, course we never - fuck kinda question is that? I think we’re done here anyway, kids. How ‘bout you clean this shit up? I gotta piss.”

Hank stormed off in a huff and Alex took a turn after he came back to the living room.

The second I heard the door to the bathroom click, I hissed at our host, “Hank, you could cut the sexual tension in this room with a steak-knife. I am about to _choke _on how thick the air is here. Go back to her place and get it on already, Jesus Christ!”

“Woah! Hey! This is my house! Why don’t you two leave and you can go choke on something else!”

I grabbed Connor’s hand and yanked him from the sofa to tug towards the door. “Maybe I will!” I lowered my voice and added, “And I hope she friggin’ _ suffocates _ you.”

“I’m not talking about this with the two of you. No! Connor, don’t you dare open your mouth, I don’t want to hear it, go!”

“Fine! But the next time we see you, there better be hickeys allll up over that,” I said, pointing at his crotch. "And if I have to ask Connor to verify, I _will!_"

"Out!"

Hank shooed us away for the night and as we got into the car, Connor looked at me squarely and said, "I'll make sure you don't choke."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels nice to write again. This was such a long chapter lol.. I've got a couple more chapters worth of material in draft at the moment. Hang tight and thank you to all who continue to read this. I really appreciate it. (And if there's anyone out there who's also reading 'Hankerings' in tandem, hit me up.)


End file.
